


You Know I Got You

by vinoharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Kid Fic, M/M, Solo Artist Zayn, Summer Vacation, Zayn had a previous relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinoharry/pseuds/vinoharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“It was awful. I met Zayn.” Liam’s eyes widen and Harry barrels on. “We got into an argument.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“You got – but it’s Zayn Malik.”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Harry glares at him. “He was an arsehole. I started yelling at him and now I’ve lost my job."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know I Got You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soundofmybones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundofmybones/gifts).



> I had so much fun writing your prompt!!! I took a few liberties and I hope you enjoy :)
> 
> *any errors are mine and not my incredible beta's*

Harry rolls out of bed and, with a half-formed hangover and crick in his jaw, tries to find where his pants went last night. He’s in one of the cheaper rooms the resort offers which is farther from the beach than the others. The man who occupies the bed with him had been a solid lay; polite, heavily muscled, and once his pants came off, Harry discovered he was quite well-endowed. He’s still snoring loudly into the pillow, Harry’s phone alarm useless in awaking him.

It’s better this way, if he’s still asleep when Harry leaves. He had mentioned how he was leaving later today and Harry has a long shift at the bar ahead of him. If he wants to be promoted, he’s got to show up on time for once. No more quick handjobs that lead to languid blowjobs causing him to be late anymore.

Harry sneaks his way out of the room with his jean shorts slung low on his hips and his floral shirt wide open. He passes a couple guests in the hallway and stands too close to a woman wearing an abundance of perfume in the lift. He comes out coughing.

The walk to his residence is short and brisk. Anguilla’s air is clean and clear first thing in the morning and offers him some time to get rid of the pounding in his head. Harry has just enough time to brush his teeth, take a quick shower, and blow-dry his hair before he’s speed-walking to the bar he works at with Liam.

“You never came home,” Liam greets, pouring what looks to be a vodka tonic. It’s half nine in the morning, but the man with his head in his hands looks like he could use it.

“I was out,” Harry grins, the one he knows Liam hates because it means he got up to something.

“Were you safe?” Liam slides the drink to the customer and takes his hotel card to charge him.

“Yes _dad_. I was safe twice, thanks.”

The blush that breaks out on Liam’s face makes Harry squeal with glee. He hip checks Liam out of the way so he can clock-in then makes sure his uniform shirt is unbuttoned low enough. Liam’s chest is nearly on full display as well; his chest is hairier and buffer than Harry’s, but he doesn’t lean over or accidentally spill ice down his top like Harry does.

“I’m just saying I worry about you sometimes.”

“That’s because you put a sex-ban in our room!” Harry says a bit too loudly. There aren’t many people around the pool, except for a woman with three small children around her glares at him.

“You brought four guys home in the first week we were roommates,” Liam says exasperatedly.

“Excuse me Liam, one was female.” Harry had liked her. She was visiting from Brazil and had the thickest hair he’d ever felt. He was only a tad bit jealous.

“I’m just saying that you go out too much. Stay in our room once in a while, we’ll invite Niall over, have a proper lad’s night and order room service until they refuse to serve us anymore.”

“They don’t serve us anyway,” Harry reminds him. He had tried, when he first started working at the resort eight months ago, to order room service only to be told that they aren’t allowed to order to the residence building.

“Fine, then we’ll order room service tonight. Niall’s working delivery.”

Harry fist pumps and gives a loud cheer. It once again earns him a glare.

“I love you best Liam,” Harry tells him sweetly. He gives him a smacking kiss to the cheek before bouncing over to the elderly woman sitting at the end of the bar.

\---

Harry’s spine pops as he arches his back. He’s in nothing but a pair of thin pants, air conditioning on high as he lies on a couch in the suite he shares with Liam. It’s got two small bedrooms that allow them their privacy but only one bathroom to share amongst the two of them, Jack and Jill style. It’s also got a nice kitchenette including a stove and a microwave, as well as a television in the living room. Their couch and reclining chair are comfortable and squishy. They have a PlayStation that they purchased together and great Wi-Fi. Overall, it’s not too shabby of a place to spend his time.

But his room – his room is too small for him to bear sometimes – a single bed pushed into the corner, a nightstand, dresser, and closet that barely fits anything. It’s smaller than the room he had at home and the room he had when he was enrolled in university. But it’s free and he gets mini-bar deliveries on the first Sunday of the month.

His first suitemate Nathan constantly had a sour expression and was against any and all things Harry loved. He disliked yoga and breakfast smoothies and apparently happiness. It was a long five and a half weeks of being forced to cohabitate before Nathan left. Then it was blissful three months of living by himself before Liam walked in on Harry making enchiladas naked.

It’s a squeal and a face Harry will never forget.

They had become fast friends. Harry had shown Liam the tricks and tips of being a resort employee and introduced him to everyone he needed to know; like the woman who bakes at 3am for the breakfast buffet and the chefs in the kitchen for the midnight shifts. Harry had charmed nearly everyone he had met and it was brilliant to share that with Liam.

“Haz?” Liam calls, stepping into the suite. “Oh for Christ’s sake!”

“I’m decent!” Harry argues. Still, he places a pillow over his crotch. Liam sighs like he always does and makes his way to the kitchenette. Harry turns down the music he was playing from his speakers. “Can you grab me a beer Leemo?”

It takes a few moments before Harry hears the rattle of beer bottles and the snick of the cap popping off.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Liam tells him. He sets a coaster on the coffee table before placing the bottle on top of it. A long twisty straw is coming out of the top.

“I love you best,” Harry says, sipping out of the straw. It fizzles down his throat, the vague taste of raspberry following. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Skyping Soph,” Liam says it with a blush on his cheeks. It’s adorable the way he still flushes when he talks about her even though they’ve been dating for well over a year.

“Yeah? When’s she coming for a visit?”

“Soon,” Liam answers like he always does. “She’s trying to sort something before my term is up.”

“She better. I won’t be here forever you know.”

“Yes you will.” Liam ruffles Harry’s hair before making his way back to his room.

It’s paradise at the resort. He’s got his beer and his friends and the beach in his backyard. He gets paid to serve drinks and flirt with guests and every once in a while he lays in the sun to keep up his killer tan. He’s twenty-three and he wants to have fun and there’s nothing wrong with that no matter what Liam says about his fear of emotional intimacy. He doesn’t want to think about Liam leaving in three short months so he turns the volume back up on his music and takes another sip of his beer.

\---

Harry’s barely awake when his phone trills to life. Blearily, he smacks around his side table before yanking it from its charger and answering the call.

“‘Lo?”

“Harry? Mate, you sound dead tired.”

Harry pulls away from the phone long enough to look at who’s called him at such an unreasonable hour.

“It’s five in the morning here, Ed.”

“Shit is it? It’s ten here. Oh.”

Harry considers hanging up the phone, but now he’s awake. Scrubbing his eyes, Harry rolls over until he’s flopped on his back. “What do you need? You coming back?”

“Nah. I’m on tour right now, don’t have time for that.”

“You should come back when you’re done. It’s been too long.”

“S’been a month. I’m still waiting for you to come see me. Experience the tour life and all that. We get up to some crazy shit.”

“Don’t think I’d like going to a different city every night, living on a bus. Might get lonely.”

Ed sighs like he’s put out. In all actuality, he had gotten along with Harry swimmingly. He had only visited Anguilla for a week after he had broken up with his girlfriend. He spent his time hitting the few clubs and bars the resort offered before heading back to his room with Harry to play guitar and make up songs while piss-drunk.

“Funny you mention that because I need a bit of a favour.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Ed takes a while longer before saying, “I’ve got a mate actually and he’s coming to the island. Highly recommended and all that.”

“Kay.”

“Okay, well he’s got a daughter, sweetest little thing. She’s five, lovely.”

Harry hikes the covers higher over himself. “What do you want, Ed?”

“Would you be able to babysit? It’d only be like, five hours a day, maybe seven.”

“Seven? I’m first in line for a promotion! I have a meeting Monday for it.”

“He’s coming for three months! Only until the end of summer. And he’ll pay you generously, twice as much as you’re making an hour now.”

“It’s seven hours though.”

“Maybe! Will you at least think about it?” Harry doesn’t know if Ed’s opposed to begging, but he sounds dangerously close to. “He’s not coming for another week and a half, the fourth he gets in.”

Harry buries his head in the pillow. He’d have five days between the talk with his boss and Ed’s friend’s arrival. “You make it really hard to say no.” Ed cheers. “What about Liam though? He’s great. He loves kids.”

“He’s got a girlfriend,” Ed responds.

“So…?”

“So my friend’s a bachelor and you’re fit. Eye candy and that.”

“Oh my God. No. You’re not playing matchmaker.”

“I’m not trying to! I’m just saying Liam’s attached to his phone and my friend wants someone who will be hands on. Take his daughter to the beach and feed her y’know? And you can cook! And you would let her paint your nails and do your hair-”

“Alright I get it. I’ll talk to my boss about the promotion and get back to you alright?”

“Alright yeah. Thanks Harry, I appreciate it mate.”

Harry doesn’t bother to ask about how Ed’s tour is going. He’ll text him later to ask. But for now, Harry hangs up the phone and promptly rolls over.

\---

Marti, a short, stout, no-bullshit attitude American, has known for a while about how Harry’s gunning for a cabana boy position. She stays behind the scenes of the resort and manages most dealings with the bars and clubs. With her as a manager, there’s a feeling of always being evaluated in the air even when she’s not around.

For the past month, Harry has been working long hours and volunteering to work events in the hopes of standing out. There’s no doubt Marti has noticed, he’s sure of it. Being a cabana boy would be more hands on and more of an interactive job than being a bartender – even if he is working on what must be the most popular bar on the entire island. But the tips that come along with being a cabana boy are much better than the ones he gets now working the bar.

Just sitting across from her in a plastic chair has Harry nearly jumping out of his skin with nerves at the opportunity to discuss the promotion he hopes to acquire.

Marti’s on the phone, even though she was the one who called Harry into her office, and she’s clacking away on her keyboard. Harry has his hands folded in his lap and is looking at all the various pictures of her brother’s family. They visit frequently; Harry’s already met them thrice.

“Alright Harry, I’m not going to drag this out.”

Harry snaps to attention back to Marti when he realizes he’s being addressed. “Okay.”

Marti’s smile is quick. “I know there’s a buzz about how you’re a shoe-in for a cabana boy position, but I’m afraid there’s no space. After having discussions with each bar-lead we decided to give it to Adam. You know, Pilipino, nice abs, swooping hair.”

“I do.” Harry’s hot with humiliation.

“We decided that he would be better suited for the position. That’s not to say we don’t have a promotion for you, because we do.”

“Alright.”

Marti picks up a pen and clicks it with her thumb. She doesn’t move to write on anything. “We were recently contacted by a former guest here about a referral to the island. Do you know who Zayn Malik is?”

“Yes,” Harry grits his teeth at the thought of the arrogant, self-involved, R&B star.

“He’ll be a guest on the island for a few months. He’s arriving with his daughter and he’ll be causing quite a buzz for the resort.” Harry stays quiet, knowing where this is going. “Mr. Malik requested a caretaker to watch his daughter for a few hours a day while he works on a new project. It’s imperative that we provide him with the best services and you’re the first person that came to mind.”

“Really?” Harry asks, feeling his hands sweat. He has an amicable relationship with Marti, based on fear and respect for the brash woman.

“Well, the guest who referred him also suggested that you would be a great candidate.” Harry mentally curses Ed for not telling him who his mate was. It’s not that Ed knows of Harry’s distaste for Zayn, but that seems like quite vital information.

“And of course,” Marti continues, unaware of Harry’s subtle frown, “when the three months is up, you’re more than welcome to continue on with the remaining month your contract will have. Your pay will no longer be through us, but you will still have your residence and amenities will still be covered and-”

“Could I think about?” Harry cuts her off. Immediately, his mouth drops open and he’s back tracking. “I mean – I’m thankful for the opportunity, but I… I really like my job right now.”

“Of course you can think about it,” Marti nods. She swivels in her chair until she’s facing the computer once again. “But I need an answer by Thursday at noon.”

\---

“It’s not that bad,” Liam says, pouring a shot of grape pucker. He dumps it into the swanky cocktail shaker along with a scoop of ice.

“Not that – Liam, I don’t even like the guy!”

“What’s not to like? He’s worked with Drake, Prince Royce and Jason Derulo! He opened for Chris Brown with Tinashe!”

Harry rolls his eyes and puts his chin in his hands like a petulant child. “You just listed a bunch of artists he’s sang with. You’re not listing any redeemable qualities about him.”

Liam sighs and pours the purple drink into a martini glass. He serves it to a customer two stools down from Harry.

“He donates to charity. A lot with the British Asian Trust and to hospitals. He also has a daughter, Noor she’s five. She’s so adorable Harry and he’s taken her on tour with him-”

“He takes his daughter on tour? He parties and shit!”

“Not a lot. Not as m-”

“I appreciate the little crush you have on him Leemo, but I don’t want to hear anymore. I just want to drown myself in fruity drinks before I have to make a decision tomorrow.”

“At least think about it. You could buy so many more of those ridiculous sheer shirts.” Liam smirks.

Harry stares down at his shirt offended. It is see-through with big maroon flowers on the bottom and Harry loves it. “I love this shirt.”

“Do you love the shipping rates?”

Harry doesn’t have a comeback for that so he folds his hands neatly in front of him on the bar. “Can you make me a planter’s punch?”

Liam rolls his eyes and looks at the big cuckoo clock above the blenders. “I hate when you come here on your nights off.”

“It’s because you’re so fit. I get lonely without you.” Harry bats his eyelashes and leans forward on the counter until he’s sure he flashes Liam a bit.

Liam shakes his head but grabs the white rum anyway. Harry blows him a kiss and swivels in his chair to look at the pool-goers. The DJ is mixing tracks, spinning the popular music from the rest of the world. Harry finds himself bopping in his seat, looking for anyone who might be on the pull. His shirt sticks to his lower back and his hair is starting to go frizzy from the humidity.

“Here Haz,” Liam says, placing the drink in front of him. He walks off to talk to one of the customers near the end of the bar.

Clea, a beautiful Greek girl with dark skin and stunning brown eyes, waves at Harry as she passes behind the bar. She’s beautiful and Harry’s definitely thought about kissing her full lips and holding onto her wide hips… but she’s got a boyfriend or fiancé or something tying her down.

Harry respects it although he’s much more content to sashay around the island and have his share of tourists and wealthy guests.

Harry picks up his drink and wanders around the pool. He could go around and flirt with some of the bachelorette parties here, but he’s always felt a bit dirty hitting on a ton of drunk women and only being interested in a few of them.

He does a few casual strolls around the pool and waits for a chair to open up before laying on his back on one. The stars are beautiful in Anguilla in a way they aren’t in England. Harry would camp out at his step-dad’s bungalow and stare at the stars until his eyes glazed over and birds started chirping to announce the sunrise. Harry spent his first month in Anguilla much the same way.

\---

Liam gently shakes Harry awake, murmuring for him to wake up.

“All closed up?” Harry asks, stretching his arms over his head and listening to his back crack.

“Yeah. Clea was fun to work with.”

“Not as fun as I am,” Harry grumps.

The pool is shut down and the DJ is no longer in his booth. It looks like Clea has gone back to her residence as well.

“Don’t be grouchy you could have gone out with Niall or something.”

“Niall was working tonight.”

Liam slings his bag over his shoulder as they make their way home. “You have plenty of other friends on the island.”

“Nah.” Harry has friends but he doesn’t have _friends_. Not people he wants to spend hours on end with and talk to when he gets bored. There aren’t a lot of people on the island he feels comfortable enough with to talk about his family and England and how much he misses his mum’s cooking.

Most people are looking for a fun few months of work and sun or, like Liam, are getting a tourism degree and need six months of work experience to meet their requirements. Harry signed a yearlong contract with the resort through a work exchange program after completing his computer science degree. His mum hadn’t liked the idea of him flying six and a half thousand kilometers away from home, but Harry set his mind to it and there was no arguing.

“Have you thought any more about Ed’s offer?”

“To babysit Zayn’s kid? No.”

“You’re so cranky when you wake up from a nap,” Liam teases. “Why not?” They’re coming up to the residence building and Harry can see a few lights are on. He glances towards Niall’s window – the one with a massive flag of Ireland – and sees that his light seems to be on.

“I don’t want to be stuck with some rich dude’s entitled child all summer.”

“But you love children. And Ed wouldn’t associate with anyone that’s an arsehole or anything.”

“I’ll think about it, alright?”

“Alright Haz, I’m just trying to look out for you. I know it killed you not to work today.”

“I just get bored,” Harry defends, keying his card to open the door. Liam swipes his own for the lift and clicks the button for Niall’s floor. They share a private smile.

“It’s half two in the fucking morning!” Niall bellows, throwing his arms wide when he opens his door.

“I just got off!” Liam laughs, pushing his way into Niall’s single suite. Harry wraps his arms around Niall before stepping into the room. Niall thumps him on the back, beer bottle knocking Harry’s spine.

They settle in to play video games. Neither of them has got an early shift and for that Harry is eternally grateful.

“Ed called me y’know.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry asks. Liam’s player scores a goal in the game and he gives a wild shout, shoving more Cheetos into his mouth.

“Mhmm. He said he asked you a favour and you’re avoiding him.”

“I’m not avoiding him! He talked to Marti about it and now I don’t have a promotion.”

“Did anyone see that goal?” Liam asks, throwing his hands up in victory. 

“He said he’s called you twice a day and you conveniently didn’t respond to any of his calls at all but he saw you tweet about antelopes.”

“It was cantaloupes Niall and I’m not avoiding him. I’m just mad, I have like, ten hours to think about this.”

“That goal was a clean sail!”

Niall elbows Harry hard in the ribs. “Take the job. You love children.”

“I want to work at the bar a bunch.”

“No, he wants to fuck a bunch,” Liam supplies sourly.

“Shut up Liam,” Harry scolds. He pauses the game and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “It’s a lot of responsibility. Like, I’ve taken care of kids before, but this is some famous guy. What if his child only eats gluten-free and throws a fit every time she doesn’t get her way?”

“Sounds a lot like you,” Niall teases.

“You know what I mean. What if Zayn is like super strict and doesn’t like my tattoos? Or makes me tie my hair up or wants me to cut it off?”

Liam squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “He has more tattoos than you do. And he his hair was really long a couple years ago.”

“The fact that you know that is frightening,” Niall laughs. “You’re thinking too much Haz. This guy is literally asking you to watch his kid a couple hours a day while he drinks and lounges by a pool or something. He’s paying you a shit ton. You just have to reapply sun cream and make sure the kid doesn’t drown.”

“You are good at making sure no one drowns,” Liam adds with a nod.

Harry groans, tossing his arm over his face. Niall and Liam make a good argument now that he’s had a few brews and tiredness sets in. “Fine. Fine, I guess it wouldn’t kill me.”

\---

Harry has heard all about Zayn Malik.

When he was fifteen all the girls in his class were obsessed with the hot nineteen-year-old.

Though he was never a fan, Harry had heard Zayn’s music on the radio and in the car with his sister Gemma; seen his face on television and posters in his friend’s rooms. He would see hashtags about Zayn on Twitter and people he followed posting Instagram photos of his album artwork when his CDs would come out. His music videos would play while Harry tried to watch MTV into the wee hours of the night. Zayn was inescapable, yet Harry had no desire to associate himself with the R&B star.

Harry grew taller, yet his baby fat still clung to his hips and thighs. He kissed girls and guys and did a shit ton of experimenting while paying little mind to pop culture.

Sixteen was a big year for Harry and he slept with a girl he thought he was going to marry then heard she had slept with someone else at a party the next night. Girls in his class gossiped about whom Zayn Malik was sleeping with, but Harry was more concerned with who _he_ was going to sleep with. So he went to a club with a fake ID that looked nothing like him and got way too drunk off cheap white rum. His friends laughed as he snogged a man in the middle of the dance floor.

Coming out to his parents at seventeen was relatively easy. His mum teared up and squeezed his fingers so hard he thought they would snap off. Robin had patted his back and offered him a glass of scotch while Gemma hugged him then forced him up to his room so they could gossip about all the fit guys in Harry’s classes.

The summer going into university, rumours swirled that Zayn Malik had gotten a girl pregnant. Without school gossip, Harry could barely keep up with the headlines on front covers. All he knew was that the girl was a model with long blonde hair and big breasts. It was easy to ignore if Harry turned a blind eye.

And he did, he had no interest to hear about petty rumours as he bought dorm accessories and prepared to move away from home. He kissed more boys than he could count and worked long morning shifts at the bakery so he could start his collection of silky shirts.

By the time he was in university, he was on the Campus Pride Committee and edited a few articles for the school newspaper. His computer science degree was going alright and he immersed himself into the university community.

Everything about Zayn was few and far between until he came out.

Being a member of Campus Pride meant that Harry heard all about how Zayn Malik, prince of R&B, was pansexual. He read news articles about it in the school paper and heard everyone in the office gossiping about all of the people he may or may not have slept with. It wasn’t difficult for Harry to learn more and more about Zayn through his peers and the more Harry learnt the less he respected Zayn Malik.

He heard about how Zayn tried to start a fight with a pap when he went out with his childhood mates and how he started partying more than he was performing – which was a difficult feat when he performed five nights a week. Zayn travelled to America and Canada, Japan and Australia, as well as all over the UK. His daughter came with him sometimes, but stayed with her mum for a majority of the time Zayn was on the road.

It rubbed Harry the wrong way how someone could just abandon their child and perform and fuck their way across the globe.

He hadn’t heard much about Zayn since he moved to Anguilla and he quite liked it that way.

\---

Harry’s got an arm thrown around Niall’s waist, drinking from his dimpled beer mug. He’s nearly finished his, Niall egging him on as he eagerly waits to do shots.

“He’s almost on,” Niall whispers, poking Harry’s stomach.

Harry squirms, beer dripping out the side of the mug and down his chin. He wipes it away with his wrist, nearly elbowing Niall in the face.

“Come on, we need shots. We need lots of shots before he goes on.”

“You love watching him sing,” Harry laughs.

Still, he finishes his beer before following Niall to the bar. They get service quickly and Mateo, one of the bartenders for the night, gives them a free silver bullet each along with the other two they each purchased. Harry tosses the spare coins in the tip jar.

Harry and Niall clink glasses before downing the first shot. The gin and scotch burn Harry’s throat, though it’s mildly soothed by the spritz of lemon added to it. The next two are done in quick succession. Harry makes a face while Niall unaffectedly buys another beer.

“Got you a vodka soda,” Niall announces, shoving a fizzy drink into Harry’s hand. Harry smacks a kiss on Niall’s warm cheek before pushing their way through the crowd.

The people gathered on the floor around the stage are chatting easily. Niall slips into a conversation with the people next to him. One’s a blond haired blue-eyed absolutely _gorgeous_ man who’s tall and fit and has just the right amount of muscle mass to show that he takes the time to go to the gym. Another is a short brunet with a deep scar above his eyebrow. The third person, showing the most amount of interest in Niall, is a deeply tanned blonde with curvy legs and a low cut tank top. She has a black bikini top on underneath.

The tables that line the outside of the floor area aren’t too full, but there’s a collective buzz around the room above the music playing in the background. Liam’s set isn’t very long, nor is it particularly upbeat, but he generally generates a decent amount of people. It doesn’t seem much different tonight.

“Haz,” Niall says sternly. It snaps Harry out of his thoughts. He jerks his head in the direction of the blond.

“Sorry,” Harry blushes. “What was that?”

“I asked what you’re doing here tonight.” He’s got an American accent Harry notices happily.

“Watching my roommate perform,” Harry gestures to the stage. “And I’ve got a new job so this is my last night of freedom.”

The blond laughs and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. Harry would very much like to get him on a bed and explore what else is beautiful about him.

“I’m Harry,” Harry holds out a hand to shake.

“Ryan.”

“I like your accent. Are you American?”

“Canadian,” Ryan says with a roll of his eyes. He follows it up by pointing to a pin of a Canadian flag at the bottom of his shirt.

“Oh. Do you hate it when people assume you’re from America?”

Ryan leans a little bit more into Harry. He’s an inch taller. “Yes.” His seriousness sparks a laugh out of Harry.

Harry’s eyes drop to Ryan’s lips. They’re neither thin nor thick, but they’re pink and his mouth is wide and it stretches into a smile when he notices that they’ve drawn Harry’s attention.

“I’m here for a few more days,” Ryan tells him.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, blindly reaching to squeeze Ryan’s wrist.

The lights dim just as Harry’s about to respond.

Liam performs as well as he always does. He’s engaging and sings cover after cover of Sam Smith and Coldplay. Michael Buble and Oasis make an appearance as does Usher. They’re all songs that Harry has heard before, but he cheers loudly after each one as if it’s the first time.

Liam rolls his eyes when Harry catcalls for him.

“You sure there’s nothing more going on between the two of you?” Ryan asks. His arm is slung low on Harry’s waist, fingertips brushing the seam of his jeans. 

“Nope. Just roommates,” Harry reassures him. He sips the last dregs of his drink before entwining his fingers with Ryan’s. “I’m single as a Pringle. Free as a bird.”

Ryan smirks, ducking down to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. It’s dry and startling. Harry blinks a few times before surging up, goofy smile on his lips. He feels drunk and happy, resolutely _not_ thinking about how he’s signing his life away to an entitled, snobby singer who doesn’t even play any instruments or write any of his songs.

Ryan’s brunet friend, Chad or Thad, buys them a round of beers after Liam’s set and Harry sits half in Ryan’s lap and half on the nook.

“Why don’t you go dance?” Liam suggests, already loose-lipped from his celebratory beer. “You throw some crazy shapes when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t have to be drunk to throw some crazy shapes, Liam.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ryan laughs, pressing his nose against the side of Harry’s forehead.

“It’s a British thing,” Harry tells him. He hauls himself out of the booth anyhow and drags Ryan out to the dancefloor.

They don’t fit per se, but they do mesh well enough to knock their hips against each other and semi-grind to the music. Harry’s hair is a curtain around his neck, suffocating the skin to a sweaty mess. Ryan brushes his lips against Harry’s nose, his cheeks.

“You’re so hot,” Ryan breathes, pushing his hips into Harry’s arse. “Fuck.”

“You too,” Harry agrees. Want crawls over his skin. If he’s going to be stuck babysitting for Zayn Malik for the rest of the summer, he deserves to have a recklessly fun night. “Wanna suck you off.”

“Yeah?” Ryan laughs, turning Harry quickly. He kisses eagerly, with too much tongue and a tad bit too much spit. Harry over looks it though, thinking about the solid muscle of Ryan’s stomach when his knuckles brush over them through his shirt. “Wait.”

“Everything okay?” Harry tries not to cling to Ryan, but his fingers twist in the hem of Ryan’s shirt anyway.

“Yeah. I just love this song s’all.”

Harry tries to listen to it. Not much can be heard over the bass and the chatter of the bar. He attempts to make out the crooning of the singer and beats pulsing his heart. “It doesn’t sound familiar.”

“It’s Zayn Malik. Surely you know who he is.”

Harry makes a face. “I know who he is. I just don’t like him is all.”

Now it’s Ryan’s turn to make a face. “You don’t like him? How do you not like him? Have you seen his face?”

Harry takes a miniscule step backwards. “I’ve seen his face. I just think there should be more to someone than a nice face and a decent voice.”

“Decent – he won the _X Factor_! Even I watched that.” Ryan’s face is pulled into a tight scowl. He looks genuinely offended.

“I’m really – I think we’re not going to get on as well as I thought we would.”

“No shit. You don’t – Zayn fucking Malik…”

Harry walks away before he can hear any more of this ridiculousness. He finds Niall sans Ryan’s posse and is quick to suggest shot after shot. They convince Mateo to slip them another couple of shots and get so drunk Liam has to stay until close to shuttle them back to the residence.

\---

Harry speed walks to the boardroom he’s supposed to be in. It’s on the third floor and he takes the stairs two at a time, nearly breaking a sweat before he slicks back his fly-a-ways. His head pounds as he climbs the stairs, breath heaving with staleness. Harry double checks which room he’s supposed to meet Zayn in. His knuckles wrap on the door twice then takes a step away from it.

A beefy man in a tight black shirt opens the door.

“Hi, I’m Harry Styles,” Harry puts on his best smile.

“Carlos. You’re Ed Sheeran’s mate?”

“Yes sir. I have ID.”

“That’s alright. You look just like the picture he sent over. Come in.”

Harry steps into the room. He’s in his nice boots and jeans despite the warm weather. His shirt is a clean pressed t-shirt that has become wrinkled with movement. During a quick scan of the room he notices that Zayn Malik is nowhere in sight.

“Mr. Styles, we’ve got some preliminary questions for you,” Carlos pipes up.

Harry sits across from Carlos, all too aware of the hardness in his eyes. He holds his hands as still as he can while he talks about his previous work experience and what he does on the island.

It’s mostly Carlos asking questions while Harry tries not to cower in fear.

“How much do you know about Mr. Malik’s private life?”

“Uh,” Harry stumbles, casting a side-glance towards the door. “He has a daughter. She’s six?”

“Five,” Carlos corrects.

“Yeah. And her mum is Alana?”

“Ivana,” he says quickly. He writes something on the sheet of paper in front of him to which Harry makes a point of looking away. “Do you know what his daughter’s name is?”

“Noor?”

“Yeah. Do you want to meet her?”

“Sure. Yeah, I’d love to.”

Carlos gets up then, taking a room key out of his pocket. He doesn’t say anything as he moves to the next boardroom over and swipes the door open. There are a couple toys on the ground, but the girl in there – brown hair tied into two space buns and a bright green dress – spins in circles as a woman sits on the table and records her.

“This is Caroline Watson, she’s Mr. Malik’s stylist,” Carlos introduces.

Harry shakes her hand introducing himself despite how odd he finds it that Zayn has brought his stylist on a trip. There are no paparazzi on the island and as a general rule of the wealthy guests that can afford to stay here, very few pictures being taken of the high-profile guests.

“And this little princess is Noor.”

Noor’s got a crown halfway fallen off her head and a toothy grin. She’s missing the one to the right of her big tooth but her smile is larger than life. She has big eyes the same shade as her dad’s and a flush to her cheeks from all her twirling.

“Hi,” Harry says, crouching to her height.

Noor’s eyes turn wide and fearful before she darts under the desk and behind Caroline’s legs.

“Don’t be shy Noor,” she laughs. “I’m Caroline. Nice to meet you.”

“Harry, hi.”

Noor whines behind her, getting a laugh out of Carlos. Harry tries not to take it personally. He understands that children react differently to other people and that she’s in completely new surroundings, yet he still tries to smile extra big to show her how friendly and approachable he is.

“Don’t you want to say hi?” Caroline asks. “You love making new friends.”

Noor doesn’t say anything.

“Look how nice and long his hair is. Isn’t it nice, Noor?”

Noor finally peeks an eye out to stare up at Harry. When she doesn’t immediately stuff her face back into the back of Caroline’s thighs, he considers it a win.

“Can you say hi to Harry?” Noor shakes her head, still keeping an eye on Harry. “No?” She prods. She has a very soothing voice. “What would baba say?”

“I like your hair,” Harry tells her. “Do you think you could do that for me?”

Noor shakes her head, eyes glancing to Caroline. Her lips are downturned and her expression stormy. Harry hopes she’s not about to throw a strop.

Caroline hikes her into her arms. Noor’s legs wrap tightly around her torso and she buries her face into Caroline’s neck. She’s acting a bit more like a three year old than a five year old. Then again, if she doesn’t see her father too often then it’s understandable that she would want to cling to someone.

“Would it be alright if Harry joined you and I for lunch?”

Noor nods. Her small fists clench onto Caroline’s shirt. Her sparkly blue nail polish is chipped.

“Want to come for lunch?” Caroline invites.

“Uh, okay.”

\---

They have lunch in the boardroom they were in with Carlos. There are chicken nuggets and chips waiting for them along with burgers and a big bowl of house salad.

“So, who’s baba?” Harry asks before he can help himself.

“That’s Zayn,” Caroline says around a bite of her chicken burger. “It means dad.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“Yeah. Zayn is Pakistani and that’s how they refer to their dad. He speaks Urdu, but he’s not teaching Noor yet. But she’s very smart and she picks up on a ton of the words that he says.”

“That’s cute.” Harry is a bit overwhelmed by the flood of information that Caroline is so openly providing. He wasn’t expecting to get invested in the family or anything.

“I’m full,” Noor says. It’s the first time Harry’s heard her speak and her voice is soft.

“You only ate three nuggets. You have to eat at least four before you can be full, remember?”

Noor nods. She looks up at the chips on Harry’s plate and when he catches her eye she looks away. The next time she does it, Harry makes a face at her, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes. Noor squirms back in her seat, hands pinned under her thighs. When Harry puffs out his cheeks and rolls his eyes to the left, Noor burst out into a fit of laughter.

“She’s just shy right now, but you’re very good with her.” Caroline compliments.

“Thanks. Is she allowed a chip?” Harry picks up one of the greasy chips from his plate and stuffs it into his mouth.

“If she has another bite of chicken nugget.”

Noor takes the smallest bite known to man of her chicken nugget before reaching a small hand out for Harry.

“What do you say?”

“Can I have a chip please?”

“What’s his name?” Caroline asks, shaking her head at Harry so he knows not to give her a chip just yet.

Noor huffs under her breath. She pointedly looks at Caroline then Carlos by the door before turning her eyes back to Harry. “Can I please have a chip, Harry?”

Harry’s heart swells at that as he happily shares his chips with her. She dunks them in an unhealthy amount of honey mustard sauce then stuffs them into her mouth. She’s smirking as she licks the salt off her fingers.

\---

“She gets a bit attached to everyone,” Carlos explains as Harry’s signing one of the non-disclosure agreement papers.

Now that he’s seemed to have passed the unspoken test, Carlos’ intimidating façade has melted away. Carlos tossed Noor over his shoulder and ran around with her until Caroline was yelling her head off that she was going to vomit all of her food back up. Noor was giggling and laughing so hard she starting coughing. Caroline quickly shuttled her away for a nap leaving Harry and Carlos to sign papers.

“It’s cute though.”

“Sometimes. She throws fits with people she doesn’t know, but she warms up quickly. It’s why Caroline came with us.”

“If she’s here then why does Zayn need a babysitter?” Harry tries not to pry, but curiosity gets the better of him. He places the tip of the pen into his mouth and chews on it.

“Caroline’s not staying. She’s got a daughter of her own, Brooklyn, back in England. She’s only here for the first three days while we get settled.”

“Do you have any family?” Harry asks. He doesn’t know if he’s crossed an unspoken line.

“I’ve got a couple of nephews that will send me to an early grave.”

Harry laughs, startled by the fond annoyance in his voice. He makes quick work of signing the papers. He had started to read them, but his eyes began glazing over and there were only so many times he could read about ‘consequences’ and ‘fines’ that came from telling a journalist or anyone associated with a journalist about ‘ZAYN MALIK AND DAUGHTER NOOR MALIK.’

When all is said and done he shakes Carlos’ hand. They exchange numbers and Harry already has a crisp 20 pound note just for the time the interview took.

\---

The second meeting with Noor goes much like the first.

Harry shows up a couple minutes early to the lavish suite that Zayn’s staying in.

Liam’s eyes bulged out of his head when Harry told him he was staying in the Seaview Two Bedroom Penthouse. It boasts a lavish 3,600 sq. ft. penthouse suite in the Main Building with maximum privacy via elevator access. There’s a sundeck with a dining hall and lounge areas along with a private Jacuzzi. Inside, the master suite offers a large bedroom with two baths, an additional bedroom with bath, a den/office suite with a sofa-bed, a large living room, full kitchen, and dining room. From the terrace, there are views of the pool, the beach, and the sea.

Caroline meets Harry at the door and shakes his hand again. “Noor’s eating cereal.”

Noor is in fact eating cereal. She’s sitting cross-legged and with the bowl in her lap, spilling Cheerios all down her top. When she sees Harry she bursts into tears.

“Noor stop,” Caroline says in a low voice. She plucks the bowl off her lap and hooks her hands under Noor’s armpits. She lifts her up and once again her legs wrap around Caroline’s waist instantaneously. Noor’s skirt is bright pink and ruffled with sparkles all over it. Her face is tucked into Caroline’s shoulder, but she still makes sure to make eye contact with Harry as she wails away.

It sends something terrifying through Harry. He gets along with children – he _loves_ children. They flock to him and he flocks back; always putting an excited hand on a baby bump and making silly faces when they lie in their prams. He loved working at the bakery in secondary and handing out stickers to each child he encountered. He loved how easily it was to earn their attention and affection and the way they lit up whenever they saw him.

Harry’s self-esteem is directly correlated to how much children like him and at the moment, it’s dwindling.

“Stop your crying,” Caroline soothes, rocking Noor back and forth. “You’re a big girl, yeah?”

Noor shakes her head and stains Caroline’s shirt with tears. She’s an ugly crier with red eyes and snot running from her nose. Her mouth is wide open to let shriek after shriek out.

“No one’s leaving you, Noor. I’m right here.”

That finally seems to do the trick. Harry stops fiddling with his rings and Noor wipes her eyes with a balled up fist.

“If you sit on my lap while you finish breakfast can we talk to Harry?”

Noor nods, squirming in Caroline’s arms until she arranges them into a seated position in one of the chairs. Harry pulls out the one across from them. He feels oddly self-conscious of himself, like what he does in the next ten minutes determines if he’ll have a well-paid job this summer or not.

“Will you say hi to Harry now?”

“Hello,” Noor mumbles. She shoves her hand into her dry Cheerios then shoves them in her mouth.

“Hi Noor,” Harry smiles. “I like your sparkly skirt.”

“Thank you,” Noor says into her cereal bowl.

“She picked it out all by herself,” Caroline says proudly. She bounces Noor on her lap and her tiny fingers clutch Caroline’s hand on her tummy.

“It’s beautiful.” He glances around the room for any sign that Zayn is home, but finds nothing other than sneakers near the door.

“I also picked out my top,” Noor informs him. “And when we go to the beach, baba says I can pick out my bathing suit.”

“Wow.” Harry nods, glancing to Caroline to make sure he’s doing an okay job of talking with her. She’s giving him an encouraging smile, bopping her legs gently. “You really are a big girl.”

“Why don’t you show Harry your closet? I set it all up for you, remember?”

“Mhmm,” Noor smiles proudly at that. She pushes her cereal away from her before wiggling out of Caroline’s lap. She holds her hand out for Harry when she gets on the other side of the table.

Harry takes her hand gratefully. Caroline doesn’t seem to be following them so Harry takes a deep breath. He’s good with kids; he can be good with her. Children smell fear like dogs do or something.

“Wow, your room is really nice,” Harry says as soon as Noor pushes open the door. It’s bigger than Harry’s residential living room. There’s a television mounted on the wall and a king sized bed all for her. Her closet is a walk-in and there’s a bathroom through a sliding door. She has a toy chest that Harry knows for certain doesn’t come with the room and there are step stools scattered throughout the room so she can step onto the bed and pull clothes down from her hangers.

It looks like Zayn, or his team rather spent time to prepare the room to look as much like Noor’s regular bedroom as possible with the various family pictures placed on surfaces and the fairy lights strung above her bed. A toy kitchen is set up in the corner where a desk usually sits and there are plastic pots and pans on the mock-stove. The closet has hanging shelves that Noor can reach from the ground and there’s a fuzzy pink mat at the bottom of the bed.

“This is from home,” Noor says as she sprawls out on the mat. “Baba let me bring it.”

Harry squats and runs his fingers on it. “S’soft.”

“Mhmm,” Noor nods. She jumps to her feet and runs around the bed. She uses the step stool to climb onto the bed then starts jumping. “Baba’s room is bigger, but I got to bring my toys with me!”

“Are they under the bed?” Harry asks, avoiding the toy chest. He bends down to lift the bed skirt. Noor giggles and keeps bouncing. “Are they under the covers?” Harry lifts the side of the messy bed. “I know where they are! They’re in the bathtub!”

“No!” Noor collapses onto the bed, clutching her tummy as she laughs. “Don’t be silly, they’re in the box!”

“The box?” Harry gasps, watching Noor slide off the bed. “They don’t belong there!”

“Yes they do!”

“Nuh-uh,” Harry says shaking his head.

“Uh-huh! Baba gets mad if I don’t put my toys away. I get stickers if I do.”

“Stickers?” Harry says with wide eyes. “You must have lots of stickers. Your room is very neat.”

“I do. Baba bought me a sticker book and I keep them all in there.”

“Can I see them?”

Noor nods, running around to the night stand on the side of the bed and opening the drawer. It’s a fairly big book with lots of room for stickers. It has a drawing on the front covered up by a giant unicorn sticker.

She manages to get back up on the bed with the book in her arms. “Harry, come look!” she says exasperatedly, when she realizes he’s still all the way on the other side of the room.

Harry smiles as he makes his way over to the bed and sits next to her. She’s turning the pages and pointing out her favourite stickers. She seems like a very sweet girl, but Harry can already tell by the tantrums she’s thrown over the past two days that he’s not going to have an easy job this summer after all. 

\---

Ed calls him again that night. Harry turns his phone to silent and stuffs another marshmallow into his mouth.

“You gonna answer that?” Liam asks. His phone lights up with a message.

“Nope,” Harry plucks another marshmallow from the bag in his lap. They’re watching _White Collar_ and Harry is trying his hardest to watch Matt Bomer pretend to be a high school teacher. It would be a lot easier if Liam wasn’t just staring at him like a neglected puppy.

“He’s worried you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him,” Harry says muffled. “He just went behind my back and convinced my boss not to give me a promotion so I could do him a favour.”

“Technically it’s not a favour if you’re getting paid for it.”

“Yes Liam, I understand that. It’s the principle of the matter,” Harry snaps. Liam turns back to his phone, stuffing a pillow onto his lap. He looks like a scolded child. His ability to have Harry feeling guilty so quickly is uncanny. “I just – Noor hates me. She’s so cute, but she hates me so much.”

“She doesn’t hate you! You said she shared her packet of gummies with you.”

“Only the pear flavoured. No one likes the pear flavour.”

Liam gently takes the marshmallows out of Harry’s lap. He rolls the opened end up then places them on the coffee table. “She warmed up to you earlier than yesterday though, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See! You’re already making progress.”

Harry glances at the television. He’s lost the plotline since Liam started speaking. “Do you find it weird that I haven’t met Zayn yet?”

“I mean, he’s famous right? He’s probably got loads of things to do. Did you not see him today?”

“Nope. I just hung out with Caroline and Noor for a couple hours then went home again. Tomorrow I’m taking her to the beach with Caroline because it’s her last day and then it’s just the two of us.”

Liam scratches at his short beard. “Stay around the apartment a little bit. See if he comes out or if you can hear him breathing.”

“That’s creepy Liam.”

“Maybe he’s not even here. Maybe he’s pulling a Yoncé and he’s secretly filming in America or something.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. He just doesn’t want to take responsibility for his kid.”

Liam’s lips twitch with a response. Instead, he frowns at Harry.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Can I have my marshmallows back?”

Liam grumbles, but hands them over to Harry before kicking his feet into his lap.

\---

Noor, understandably, wails her head off on the fourth day when she realizes that Caroline isn’t coming back. Carlos is waiting for Harry in the Malik’s suite and Noor is lying on her stomach crying into the rug in her room.

“Has she been like this all morning?” Harry asks. It’s not even ten and Noor has herself all worked up.

“Only for a few minutes since I came over.”

Harry rolls his eyes. He puts a hand soothingly on Noor’s back. She continues to kick her feet, hiccupping into the rug. “Where’s Zayn?”

“At the gym.”

“The gym…” Harry says dumbly. He tucks his thumbs under Noor’s arms and maneuvers her until she’s leaning heavily into his side. Her eyes are puffy and her lips are covered in spit. There’s a snot bubble forming from her left nostril. Noor is in a right state and Zayn’s just at the gym doing his own thing. Unbelievable. “Can you tell me what’s wrong darling?”

Noor shakes her head, sniffling in between her cries. Harry rubs her back with one of his hands and her calf with the other. “Do you miss Aunty Caroline? Yeah?”

Noor sniffles, balling up her fist to rub at her puffy eyes. The normal milk chocolate colour has gone red and watery with the fat tears that roll down her cheeks.

“I have her number. We can send her a picture every day. And we can send her videos and she can send us videos back.” Harry tries to think of the other ways Caroline said that he could contact her by. “And some days maybe we can Skype her and Brooklyn. Would you like that?”

Noor nods and straddles Harry’s thigh until she’s sitting on it with her back to his chest. Harry wraps his arms around her and gives a tight squeeze. She smells like the familiar watermelon shampoo he’s starting to identify as _her_. Her breathing evens out until she’s poking at the rings on his finger.

Carlos is still in the room and Harry sends a glance his way. For all his nephews, he’s horrible at helping in times of crisis. He misses Caroline already with her serene tone and ability to hush Noor when she’s having an outburst.

“Do you feel better now?” Noor nods again and wraps her fingers around Harry’s chunkiest ring. “Do you want some apple slices?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright. You can send Aunty Caroline a picture later if you want.”

That seems to placate Noor and they spend the afternoon eating apples then exploring the building. Harry takes her to ice machines and lets her push the button while he cups his hands under it. They sneak into elevators and ride them around with Carlos following close behind.

Carlos’ presence is still strange. Harry isn’t used to constantly having someone watch him. Even when Caroline was there she would play dress up with them or sit at the same table and work on her laptop while Noor and Harry coloured.

There are times when he feels like Carlos is stalking them instead of being a member of their little group. When they go for lunch on Saturday, two days after Caroline left and a full week of knowing Noor, Carlos sits at a different table. It’s the first time they leave the house together and Harry finds it awkward.

Harry had asked Noor if Zayn was going to join them for lunch but she shook her head and told him that her baba was terribly busy. The way she said it seemed rehearsed, as if she said it time and time again.

“I like being outside,” Noor tells Harry. They’re sat in a corner table on the patio, overlooking the beach. Waves crash gently on the sand and children run away from them with loud squeals. It’s not unpleasant though.

“Do you play outside a lot?” Harry asks. He’s got a glass of ice-cold water with lemon sweating on the table. Noor’s has a straw through it.

“No,” Noor brushes her fingers along the edge of the table. “Baba doesn’t like when I go outside without him.”

“That’s no fun. I bet we can do lots and lots of things outside.”

“Yeah?” Noor asks, lighting up. “Can we get sidewalk chalk and play jump rope?”

“We can get hula hoops too!”

Noor cheers before her expression turns worrisome. “Can we invite baba?”

“Of course. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

They descend into talking more about the comic book Noor’s reading. Zayn has managed to get every issue of _The Phoenix_ for Noor – a hefty 186 plus – and since beginning to read it while in Anguilla, she has gotten through seven. Noor’s eyes light up as she speaks about which series in the children’s comic book is her favourite. She gestures a lot with her hands and gets tongue tied in her excitement.

Harry has to tell her to take a deep breath and slow down, to chew the baked sweet potato chips and take her time.

After half an hour of looking over his shoulder to Carlos, eating a burger and drinking black coffee alone, Harry finally forces him to join.

It’s more pleasant with Carlos sitting with them and his presence seems to placate Noor that much more. She’s been warming up to Harry fairly steadily. Her face doesn’t pinch when he tries to change subjects and talk to her and she has asked him about himself a few times. It boosts his ego an incredible amount.

For all Noor’s crying fits and bouts of attachment anxiety, she’s fiercely independent in other aspects. She goes to the bathroom by herself and puts her sandals on by herself. She reads on her rug while Harry mindlessly messages friends back in England. Noor sets up tea parties with biscuits she gets from the cupboard and lemonade that she mixes up by herself; even if there’s way too much of the sugary powder to make it taste like lemonade, Carlos and Harry sip it down with big smiles.

Noor can work the Bluetooth that’s attached to her iPad and she dances around her room playing old Britney Spears and Spice Girls songs. “Baba loved the Spice Girls. He says his favourite was Posh Spice.”

That’s not the first time she brings up Zayn either. There are times where Harry forgets that Noor is Zayn’s child at all. He looks at Noor and sees so much gentleness and excitement, mischievousness and a loud sense of adventure that it is easy to forget that there’s a man behind a door at the end of the hallway missing all of it. But then Noor slips him into conversations so easily that it’s startling how often Harry forgets of his existence. Its little things like when she sees Harry’s rose tattoo and excitedly squeals “baba has a flower tattoo!” Or when they go to one of the pools and Noor looks sadly into the water and says “baba’s afraid of the water. He can’t swim.”

There are other times when Noor brings Zayn up for absolutely no reason. Like when Harry’s wrapping a towel around her after they go to the pool for the first time and she tugs on the bottom of Harry’s hair and says “baba can braid my hair, maybe he can braid yours too.” Or on the second Monday of Harry nannying when Noor confesses that “baba had some biscuits we made and he says they remind him of when he was my age.”

Harry jokes that that must have been a long, long time ago, but his sarcasm goes right over Noor’s head. Carlos is with Zayn in town for the day and they conveniently left while Harry and Noor were in her room rearranging her stuffed animals. They spend a couple hours doing colouring books and watching the resort’s satellite television until Noor asks if she can have some lunch. He makes her a cucumber and cream cheese sandwich with a slice of cheese - what Noor claims to be her absolute favourite - then subtly asks, “What does baba usually make you for dinner?”

“Baba doesn’t make dinner,” Noor says. She’s managed to get cream cheese smeared on the side of her mouth.

“What do you eat?”

“Room service,” Noor swings her feet back and forth under the chair. “I get to pick whatever I want.”

“Whatever?” Harry can’t help but gasp. They’ve got foie gras and a pizza with lobster and gold flakes. Harry doubts Noor would order any of that though. She probably lives off of chicken strips and chips.

“Mhmm.”

“So what do you and baba do while I’m gone?”

“Umm,” Noor chews thoughtfully for a few moments. Harry grabs a celery stick and takes a large bite out of it. “We read sometimes or we play toys. We don’t leave a lot because lots of people like baba and it’s dangerous when I’m with him.”

“Has that happened before?” Harry leans his elbows on the counter.

“Only once but I was really small. It was when I lived with mummy and baba took me shopping, but I don’t remember. Baba says that it was really scary and dangerous so we don’t do that without Carlos.”

“Oh. We’re very lucky to have Carlos then, aren’t we?”

“Mhmm! Baba says he’s going home soon though.”

Harry frowns, pushing Noor’s plate underneath her sandwich so it can catch some crumbs. He has no idea what Noor’s talking about.

“Are you and baba going home with him?”

“Nope!” Noor brushes her hair back and spreads cream cheese all in her hair.

“Why is he leaving then? Did baba say?”

Noor shakes her head and shoves the rest of her sandwich in her mouth. It’s far too big to fit in her mouth, but she crams it in there and attempts to chew anyway. She has the decency to look sheepish about it when Harry gives her a scolding look.

“They thought I was sleeping. I was listening at the door.”

“That’s very naughty. You shouldn’t do that Noor.”

“I know,” she pouts.

“If I told baba we could agree to take a sticker away.”

Noor’s eyes go big and bright with panic. “No! No you can’t. I’ve earned three stickers with you and they’re ladybirds!” Noor looks so stricken that Harry can’t help but to smirk.

“Okay, but you have to promise me not to listen to conversations that your baba has. That’s called eaves dropping.”

“I won’t,” Noor nods. “Baba bought me these new pens and they have sparkles in them and you draw on skin and make them into tattoos.”

“That would be a lot of fun. Do you think you could give me tattoos?”

“Mhmm. I gave baba lots of tattoos but they washed off when he took a shower.”

“You can give me lots. Does he have as many tattoos as I do?”

Harry lifts the sleeves of his T-shirt to show Noor all the ones he has.

“He has more maybe. He has one of me right… here!” She yanks Harry around until she’s spreading her hand out on his right bicep. “He got it when I was just a baby and it’s my chubby face! Sometimes when we cuddle in the morning he pinches the skin and makes it talk.”

“He does?” Harry inquires. “Baba sounds very silly.”

“He is! He’s the silliest. I miss him lots when he goes away, but his job is very important and makes lots of people happy.” It sounds like another rehearsed line that fills Harry with irritation and outrage.

An angry wave crashes over him as he pictures Noor, much younger than she is now, being told that other people’s happiness is more important than having her baba by her side. As a child who grew up in a single parent household with an absentee father, Harry can’t imagine what it would be like to have the single parent be the absentee one as well.

\---

“He didn’t even show up either!” Harry says with frustration. In the past week and a half of working for Zayn Malik, Harry’s spent a fair amount of time ranting to Liam about how horrible of a person Zayn is. “They were getting groceries or probably lots of booze and ten minutes before my shift is over Carlos shows up without Zayn! He didn’t even drop in! He literally wants nothing to do with me other than to babysit Noor. He just – fuck, he doesn’t even feed her dinner.”

Harry bitterly takes a swig of his beer before continuing. “And I’m there for six hours right. So I let myself in, find Noor watching television, then just ask her what she wants to do for the day! Zayn sits in his room and I can see the light under the door and he just sits in there and doesn’t come out while I’m there! He just gets drunk or something.

Harry suddenly pauses as a thought dawns on him. “Maybe he’s not even here. Oh my God, Liam… what if Zayn just sent his child to the resort with some people that work for him and he’s just fucking his way across the Australian outback?”

Liam waits until Harry’s sufficiently done before speaking. “I feel like you’re not being fair.”

“Not being – Liam! I come in at 9am and Noor has peanut butter toast crumbs all over herself and then when I leave I’m just supposed to assume that everything’s fine? What if when I leave she’s all by herself in that suite?”

“She’s not – Harry, you’re drunk.”

“I do my best thinking when I’m drunk.”

Liam kicks Harry’s thigh. “You’re missing the point. You know Noor’s safe and if you don’t think she is just ask Carlos. Or maybe _ask_ to meet Zayn since you’re so adamant that he’s not present.”

“I don’t want to meet him,” Harry grumbles. “He’s a prick.”

“You don’t know that.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Noor is such a bright and beautiful girl. She’s funny and smart and quick-witted. She keeps Harry on his toes, but when they go to the pool or walk around the resort, she never runs off. Noor has grown to accept that Harry is a presence in her life and in the past few days she’s seemed to welcome him when he walks into the suite.

“You have the day off tomorrow. Cool down and don’t think about Zayn or Noor or anything.”

“Yeah. S’pretty nice to have Thursday’s off. Who knows if Zayn will actually watch his child or not.”

“Harry…” Liam warns.

“I know, I know.” Harry polishes off his beer.

\---

That Thursday, on Harry’s well and true first day off, he does some research.

He starts with watching Zayn’s _X Factor_ season. He’s charming and quiet and there’s something intriguing about how private he is. He looks incredibly young. His smile is unsure and his shoulders hunch as he introduces himself. He looks small on the empty stage, though the massive quiff atop his head fills the space some. His smile is wobbly when the judges praise him as if he doesn’t quite believe in himself yet. Harry can admit that if he had cared to be invested during the season, Zayn would most likely be one of his favourites with his crooning voice and shining eyes.

The more Harry watches though, the less he likes. Gone are the last remnants of Zayn’s baby fat clinging to his cheeks. His waist gets smaller and his shoulders broader, hair longer and smirk more prominent. He doesn’t seem to smile in interviews. He smirks and sneaks the tip of his tongue out of his mouth to wet his lips before avoiding a question and answering vaguely. There’s an audio circulating YouTube of a handler telling an interviewer all the questions they can’t ask Zayn and it rubs Harry the wrong way how the list is so comprehensive.

Eventually, Harry manages to find the first couple of articles posted about Ivana’s pregnancy and Zayn’s lack of involvement with it. They talk about how Zayn flew to New York a week after the announcement and there are photographs of him walking out of a club with two leggy brunettes, his head shaved and nose pierced like a small act of rebellion. Below are three pictures of Ivana walking out of a Tesco Express with a ball cap pulled low down her face in a baggy work out shirt looking like a frightened deer.

The media has nothing nice to say about Ivana’s pregnancy. There are nasty comments about how her modeling career was ruined by the baby and how she will never work again. Some websites hypothesize that Zayn is not the father while others blame his sloppy partying for the unplanned pregnancy. Though the journalists can’t agree on much surrounding the topic of the baby, they all write about how Ivana and Zayn are not a couple and do not intend to be.

Harry clicks link after link until he’s read about Noor’s birth and how Zayn left tour a week early to be with her. That’s about everything positive the media has to say about Zayn as a father. It’s short lived though as they speculate on the relationships he has after Noor’s birth with both men and women. Another woman comes forward two years after Noor is born to accuse Zayn of impregnating her, though with further research it comes up as a false claim.

The articles don’t paint Zayn in a very good light and Harry wholeheartedly believes in what they have to say. There are hundreds of websites praising Ivana’s mothering skills and tons of pictures on Ivana’s Instagram of Noor growing up. She’s papped going grocery shopping and to the park with Noor in a bright green pram. Ivana still models and there are pictures of her flat post-baby belly. Harry gets lost in reading about her diet and workout regime – praising boxing and hot yoga for the way the baby weight melted off – until he sees an article about a messy custody battle.

Somehow, though Harry can’t find any concrete details, Zayn won custody and Ivana moved to Germany with her footballer boyfriend just like Noor had said. He reads on about how ‘sources claim’ that Noor has had a rough transition with a father she barely knows. Noor, for all the time she spent with her mother, never brings her up.

Objectively, Harry thinks Zayn is attractive. There are pictures of him shirtless and poolside; tattoos inked into his skin covering nearly every inch of his arms and chest. Harry clicks on the pictures of them, admiring the lines and shading. Some are dumb, but others are sentimental. He sees the flower on his arm that Noor mentioned as well as the one of her as a baby.

For purely work related reasons, he Googles what Zayn looked like before he got the tattoos, before _X Factor_ , and is astounded by how much his baby photos resemble that of Noor. Although he was nineteen, the amount of physical maturation – the beard, the tattoos, the smoulder – is impeccable. Zayn’s hair has gone from quiffed to cropped to so long it can fit in a ponytail. Zayn’s shaved hair only lasts for a little while, dying it grey and partying about Los Angeles while Ivana deals with morning sickness and a growing belly across the ocean. Harry recalls when shaved sides were in style, which Zayn wears nicely along with the top knot he sports for a few weeks. Drunk, high, a combination of both, Zayn looks stunning in every pap photo there is of him. But there’s also the nagging in the back of Harry’s head telling him that Zayn is getting dressed up while abandoning his daughter.

Harry closes his laptop, unable to read any further with how much his heart is full of sadness for Noor. He hasn’t realized that he’s spent a fair three hours creeping Zayn on the internet until his stomach rumbles reminding him that he only had granola for breakfast.

\---

Harry spends the day with Niall.

They both have a blissful day off and it’s been too long since the last time they hung out one-on-one. They play golf on the short course and get lunch at the restaurant. They run into some guests and schmooze them for a bit before changing into their swim trunks and getting ready to go to one of the pools.

“For fuck’s sake. Would you stop touching yourself like that?”

“I’m not doing anything!” Harry says innocently, rubbing sunscreen on his thighs.

Niall lies on his bed with his arm over his face. “You don’t even need that. You barely tan.”

“That’s because I use sunscreen Niall. You’re going to burn,” Harry sing-songs. He squirts some thick sunscreen onto the palm of his hand then rubs it into his calves. He slides it down his shin and runs it back up, massaging his legs as he goes.

Niall gives him a distasteful look. “I’m gonna burn with or without that shit. I wanna get to the pool while the sun’s still out.”

“We will, Christ. I just want to tan and drink and flirt a little.”

“Your constant need for attention is exhausting.”

Harry pokes Niall’s pale stomach then flicks his belly button before scampering out of the bedroom with a full belly laugh.

\---

It’s half past five, a completely appropriate time for Harry to be tipsy.

He’s been tipsy for the past half hour, convincing Liam to sneak him shots and make him drinks. Tia, the woman working with Liam at the bar, has been sending Harry knowing looks, but stays relatively silent. Harry used to work with her on Tuesdays; he misses that. He tells her as much.

“I miss your face too Harry. I don’t make as many tips with this kid’s ugly mug.”

“Excuse me! I make you just as many tips as Harry does!”

“You don’t,” Tia sighs. She pours a double shot of Bacardi 151 over ice. “That’s alright though you’re a much better singer.”

“I protest that!” Harry cries, throwing his arms up. “I-” Harry is cut off abruptly when a laugh ripples through the air. He twists in his chair, a bit wobbly.

Noor is in the pool, splashing around with her bright pink water wings and the yellow bathing suit she insists on wearing.

She’s staring right at Harry, waving her arms around until he has no choice _but_ to go over to her.

He stands on his wobbly legs, excusing himself from the conversation and trying to appear as sober as possible. “Hi angel,” he greets.

He kneels by the pool then flops onto his arse. He immerses his legs into the pool and waits for Noor to swim over.

“Did you see me swim laps Harry?”

Harry pouts, glancing at Carlos. He has an easy smile on his face, but his buzz cut is drenched with water. The water is falling down his face with the way Noor is splashing the water around. “I didn’t. But I heard your gorgeous laugh.”

“Baba says I have the best laugh,” Noor says happily. Harry glances around. There are mums and dads and lots of children toddling around before suppertime. Some parents are tanning and some are drinking. Some parents are reapplying sunscreen and some are playing in the pool with their children. Either way, none of them are Zayn.

“Where’s baba?” Harry can’t help but ask. Its liquid courage, he’s sure.

Noor’s lips downturn. She looks down at the crystal clear water and wades her arms. “He’s sleeping.”

“Is he tired?”

Noor nods and Harry slides himself into the water. “You can get a drink if you want,” Harry tells Carlos. He knows how he’s fond of a stiff drink in the afternoon. Carlos takes the bait and wanders over to the bar.

“Baba had a headache. I was practicing my piano, but it wasn’t very good.”

“I bet you sounded just fine. You’ll have to give him lots of hugs and kisses.”

Noor doggy paddles in the pool to get closer to Harry. “He says I give the best,” Noor says seriously.

“Uh-huh. I bet you do,” Harry says matching her tone. “Do you want to swim with me?”

Noor takes Harry’s outstretched hands then floats on her stomach. Harry is careful to lead her around the pool like they often do as she kicks her feet around. Water splashes all over the place. Harry tries to keep her from splashing too many innocent bystanders, but from the amount of water flying in every direction, it’s hard to know who to apologize to.

He passes the bar and sees Niall and Liam waving at him and he waves back. “Do you want to meet some of my friends?” There is nothing in the contract Harry signed against introducing Noor to other people. Besides, Carlos is sitting two seats down from Niall with what looks like a whiskey sour.

“Baba says I can’t meet anyone unless he’s there.”

And maybe it’s manipulative of Harry, but he can’t help himself when he says, “But you met me and baba wasn’t there.”

Noor seems to consider it. “And Carlos is right there too,” Harry presses

She pushes her hair out of her face and sets a determined expression. “Okay then.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees. He pops her up onto his hip and walks through the pool. When he gets around to the bar he orders two cups of water. “Noor, this is my roommate Liam and my friend Niall. Niall and Liam, this is Princess Noor.”

Noor clings to Harry. Her arms were already around his neck and her legs wrapped securely around his waist, but now she stuffs her face in his neck. Harry laughs. The shyness he had received from her the first day is back in full force.

“Noor,” Harry tries cooing. He jostles her around a bit and tries to turn his body so his back is to his friends and Noor is faced to look at them. She grunts and buries her head even more into his damp neck. “You said you wanted to meet them. Don’t you want to say hi?”

“Hi Noor,” Liam and Niall say at the same time. They have their most harmless expressions on.

Noor shakes her head, humming into Harry’s skin.

Harry sighs, accepting the two glasses of water Liam hands him. He gives one to Noor who clutches it tightly to her chest. The condensation chills Harry’s sternum from where she’s pressing it against him. She sucks on the straw as Harry watches delighted. It’s an incredible ego boost to have Noor seek him for comfort.

“Noor’s a bit shy today, aren’t ya?”

Noor nods, glancing up at Harry before flashing her eyes back down to her water.

“I bet… if you introduced yourself to them, you could definitely earn a sticker for that,” Harry tells her.

She looks back up, interest glinting in her eyes. She’s not quite old enough to call him out on his bribery.

“Maybe even two… one for Liam and one for Niall.”

Noor squeals. She clasps her arms around Harry’s neck again and Carlos has to dart out a hand to the glass she’s holding. Ice cubes and freezing cold water dribble down Harry’s back as Noor squeezes him. Harry grins, avoiding the look Liam’s shooting him over Noor’s shoulder.

“I’m Noor,” she says, sticking out a hand. The other is clutching onto Harry, nails digging into his shoulder. When Noor speaks her breath fans out on his cheek warm and familiar. She smells like watermelon and a fragrance Harry can’t pinpoint. It reminds him of innocence; the scent of a child.

“This is Niall and this one’s Liam,” Harry gestures.

“Hello Niall. Hello Liam. I like your haircut.”

Liam laughs, shaking Noor’s hand after Niall had. He runs it through his floppy quiff. “Thank you. I like your braids.”

“My baba did them! But he’s sleeping.” Harry catches the confused look from Niall and the questioning one from Liam. He wants to tell them to stop being so fucking obvious in front of Carlos.

“Harry,” Noor says gently, “can we play in the pool some more?”

So that’s how Harry burns off the alcohol buzz he had going. He splashes around with Noor and drags her around the pool. He holds onto her hands as she flutter kicks and twirls in the water. She pants and clings to him when they go into the deep end then floats on her back with Harry barely touching her.

Around seven, Noor starts to whine about how hungry she is. In the back of his mind, Harry knows he has to leave. He has to go home because Niall works in a short hour and Harry promised that he’d pop in to say hi to the kitchen staff. There’s also the part where him and Liam are going out to get wasted with some other bartenders, but he figures he should keep that a secret.

Another part of his brain is telling him that Noor needs company and she’s clearly not going to get any of that from Zayn. Harry’s resentment towards the absentee father grows with every passing hour.

“Please,” Noor whines. Her bottom lip juts out and she flutters her eyelashes. They’re ridiculously long.

“I can’t angel,” Harry says regretfully. He’s already carrying Noor towards where Carlos is lounging on a chair. “I made plans with my friends.”

“You said I was your friend. I want you to cut up my chicken.”

Harry goes to set Noor down but she kicks her legs around. “Carlos can do it for you. Or baba.”

“Baba doesn’t do it right. I like when you cut it into triangles.”

Now Harry feels like throwing a fit. Cutting it into triangles takes _forever_ and he’s only done it twice. He has yet to witness one of Noor’s meltdowns – the times when she wasn’t able to find a certain toy or was unable to reach the boxes at the top of her closet caused enough tears – but Harry doesn’t want to stick around for when she gets proper bratty.

“I can’t angel. I’ll see you tomorrow though.”

“No!” Noor screams at him, wiggling down until her feet hit the concrete. She takes the last couple of steps to Carlos then throws herself into his lap.

“Thanks for watching her Harry,” Carlos says, scooping her up until she’s cradled along his chest.

“My pleasure.” Harry waits for Noor to peek her head out of Carlos’ chest, but she doesn’t. Harry wants to cuddle her into his arms and explain all the reasons why he can’t spend time with her. It’s moot though.

“You’ll come by tomorrow?”

“9am,” Harry confirms. Helplessly, Harry flounders for what to say to Noor.

She is still definitely avoiding looking at him. “Okay. You’re a good lad Harry.”

Harry can’t help the laugh that shoots out of him. Noor is visibly upset with Harry. “Yeah. I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you. I’ll see you soon.”

Carlos nods, but says nothing more. Harry tugs on one of Noor’s feet and she stubbornly kicks out at him. Harry’s twenty-three and a mature adult, his ego is most definitely not bruised by a five year old throwing a temper tantrum.

She’ll be fine tomorrow.

\---

Harry taps his key card against the Malik’s key card lock. While he waits for the light to flash green, he wonders if Noor will be in a good mood or a bad mood on the other side of the door. He has a bit of a hangover and he spent the better half of last night drunkenly making out with a petite man from Russia. It didn’t lead to anything other than a snog on the dancefloor, but Harry didn’t want anything more with him.

Noor is sitting on the couch in the main sitting room. She’s on her stomach with a pillow propped up under her tummy and her legs are sprawled out. Her dress is hiked up exposing her underwear. “Noor what did we say about lying down in a dress?”

“It has to cover my bum.” Noor yanks her dress down dutifully and closes her comic book. “Hello Harry.”

Harry tries not to laugh at the business-like tone Noor adopts.

“Hello Miss Noor. How are you this morning?”

“I’m sad I think. Carlos went home.”

“He – he went home? Like to his hotel room?”

Noor shakes her head. “To his home in England.” She sits on her shins and takes one of Harry’s big hands in her small ones. She places one on top and cradles the bottom one. “I understand that this is hard to process. But baba feels that I am safe with you and he trusts you very much.”

“That’s very kind Noor… is that what your baba told you?”

Noor nods triumphantly. The solemn act is lifted with her smile. “He even held my hand like that. Did it make you feel better?”

“It did,” Harry leans forward to kiss Noor’s hair. He’ll have to message Carlos and ask for details. Or maybe call Caroline to see if she knows of anything. It would be easiest if Harry could talk to Zayn himself. “Thank you. Do you think I could talk to your baba? I haven’t met him yet.”

“Baba is working very hard. He said not to disturb him please.”

Harry’s eyes twitch into the onset of an eye roll. Zayn is the most annoying human Harry has ever encountered without actually encountering. How can you trust someone you’ve never met? How can you be so disengaged from the happenings of your child? Harry could be a serial murderer or worse.

“I think I really need to speak to baba. We have a lot to talk about.”

“No! Baba is probably sleeping. He told me about Carlos last night. We cuddled for a bit and I cried.” Noor fiddles with her hands in her lap.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No thank you. Baba says I’m a big girl because I’m very mater.”

“Mature,” Harry gently corrects. Noor leans against the back of the couch and stares at Harry. “Are you all by yourself?” Harry asks, concerned. “Have you had breakfast? Did baba feed you?”

“He made me toast.”

“Toast is not breakfast Noor. Remember? You need eggs or yogurt, something with protein. Do you want some?”

Noor scoffs, flopping onto her bum and crossing her legs. “You talk so much,” she whines.

“Because I care.” Harry bites his tongue for the rest of what he wants to say. “Are you hungry?”

“Can I have peanut butter biscuits?”

“No… but we can make some peanut butter one’s after lunch if you fancy that.”

Noor shakes her head. Her hair flies wildly around her face. “I want them _now_!”

Harry sends a wary glance in the direction of Zayn’s room. “Don’t throw a strop Noor.”

“I’m not!” Her hand forms a little fist and she punches the back of the couch.

“Hey,” Harry says sternly. He covers her hand with his and leans down until they are eye level. “You don’t punch things when you don’t get your way.”

Noor’s brows are pinched, lips pursed. She looks feistier than Harry’s ever seen her. Noor has only thrown a couple of fits and they were easy enough to sort out. She looks ready for a fight this time though.

“I want biscuits.”

“You can’t have any yet,” Harry explains evenly. “If you eat your breakfast and are a good girl all day then we can talk about it.” Noor opens her mouth, but Harry swiftly cuts her off with a stern look. “I’ll take a sticker away.”

Noor pouts and wretches her hand from Harry’s hold. “Fine. I want oatmeal and bananas.”

“Oatmeal and bananas, what?”

Noor pulls a face as though it physically pains her. “Oatmeal and bananas, _please_.”

“Coming right up,” Harry grins.

A loud thud sounds from Zayn’s room. Harry knows better than to ask Noor what it was. It was probably just the wind.

\---

For two days in a row Harry finds Noor in the sitting room while he assumes that Zayn is home. He doesn’t like it and entering the suite makes his stomach churn at the thought of Noor lounging around and waiting for an adult to show up and take care of her.

She tells Harry about what she had for dinner with Zayn and all the fun movies they watched and pictures they drew, but Harry can’t – he can’t imagine not spending the day with her. Harry takes Noor to the beach, not asking for permission since he has zero contact with Zayn, and he lathers her in so much sunscreen her skin lightens from the lotion.

They build a sandcastle as tall as Noor and Harry takes a photo of her with it. He gives her a piggyback ride until they reach Niall’s work. They find him in the kitchen like always, his ruby cheeks pushed into a smile as he shakes her hand and gets started on some food for them. Noor gets a fish finger sandwich and Harry gets one of the beet salads. He revels in the way Noor scrunches up her nose and refuses to even watch him eat the “gross red beet-y thingies.”

“They’re _so_ good Noor.” Harry smacks his lips together showing her his tongue, dyed red from the juice.

“That’s gross!” Noor squeals. They’re sitting on a picnic blanket under a tree. It’s far enough away from the buildings and beach that they have privacy, but if anyone was to be standing out on their balcony and squinting, they could probably see them.

“It’s healthy.”

“Fish is healthy. And so is bread.”

“Bread is _not_.” To prove his point, Harry pokes her stomach. A laugh bubbles out of Noor. She thrashes as Harry tickles her properly, so hard that she’s screaming between laughs.

Harry’s nose is pinked by the sun, shirt sticking to his tacky skin. His legs are sprawled out in front of him and his left arse cheek is asleep, but Noor is smiling so bright, laughing so wildly, that Harry thinks this was a really great way to spend his summer after all.

Harry guiltily calls Ed to tell him so when he gets home from the Malik’s suite.

“Look who discovered how to use a phone,” Ed greets.

“Sorry. Guess I was a bit pissed that you went behind my back and told my manager I had another job lined up so I wouldn’t get a promotion,” he snaps. It’s not at all what he wants to say.

“That’s not – this job is way better for you! Zayn says you’re doing really well.”

“I haven’t even met him! I don’t even know if he’s in Anguilla.”

“You haven’t-” Ed pauses. There’s movement on the other line until Ed’s voice sounds a bit more hushed. Harry has no idea where he is or what time it may be. “I talked to him like, two days ago. He sent his security home.”

“I know Ed.” Harry takes a deep breath. “I meant to apologize. Noor’s a great girl and we get along really well, but… I haven’t met Zayn. He literally never comes out when I’m in their suite and if he does it’s when I’m in Noor’s room or we’re on the balcony so I don’t see him. I leave around 3pm and I just assume that he’s home. I mean, what if I’m not and the one time I leave and he’s not there, she sets something on fire and-”

“Harry, slow down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Zayn spends virtually all of his time in that room by himself. Trust me.”

Harry sighs. He rubs a hand down his face. He’s got his top off and is just in a pair of boxers. He could go for a Radlermass. Or six. “I just wanted to say thank you and that it wasn’t a completely horrid thing for you to do.”

“See. I’m looking out for you. And Zayn’s lovely. You’re going to love him.”

“I doubt it. Anyway, tell me about tour. How are the girls on the road?”

That gets Ed laughing and then launching into a half hour ramble about the girls in America this time around.

\---

Harry pushes the door open the next day with a big box of toys in his arms. He’s got chalk and two sparkling jump ropes tangled up there. He borrowed some hula hoops that hang over his shoulder. He hopes that Noor is in the mood to play with it all as it’s gorgeous outside and he’s got to return the toys to the daycare by sundown.

He’s a little earlier than he normally arrives so he toes off his shoes and sets the box by the door. He considers making some pancakes and eggs to wake Noor up with. Maybe some for himself since the cup of yogurt wasn’t filling. Harry turns to go to the kitchen and jumps at the figure out on the balcony.

The figure, upon closer inspection, appears to be Zayn Malik in the flesh. Donning black basketball shorts and a white tank top, he smokes on the balcony.

Harry’s careful to take quiet steps even though Zayn isn’t paying any attention. His back is facing Harry, elbows on the railing as he blows smoke away from the house. The scent still wafts in Harry’s direction as it becomes more prominent the closer he gets. Harry takes in the slope of Zayn’s back and takes a half second to admire Zayn’s arse before shaking himself out of it.

Zayn is a prick no matter how nice is butt looks in baggy shorts.

“You’re smoking!?” Harry blurts out, anger lacing his words. He meant make an introduction, maybe say hello before diving straight into anger and outrage.

Zayn turns, holding the cigarette lazily between two fingers. “I’m outside.”

“I smelt it when I walked in,” Harry lies. “You shouldn’t smoke with the door open.”

“This is my suite,” Zayn points out. As if to punctuate his point, he brings the cigarette to his mouth and sucks in a breath.

“Which your daughter lives in.”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay.” Zayn glowers at Harry; a challenge.

“Then who would watch Noor? You sure as hell-”

“Baba?” Noor interrupts. She rubs at her eye with her tiny fist.

“Hi baby,” Zayn smiles. He stubs out the cigarette on the ashtray then scoops her into his arms. He places a kiss to her cheek that she squirms away from.

“You stink.”

Harry smirks, biting his tongue.

“Sorry meri jaan. But look who’s here. Harry came early so you can spend all day together.”

“Hello Harry,” Noor says. Harry will never get over how adorable it is that she pronounce hello as huh-la.

“Hi angel. Do you want pancakes for breakfast?”

“With blueberries?” Zayn places her on her feet and she clings to his legs. She has her face half smashed into his thigh. He swings her up until she’s tightening her legs around his waist, hands coming up around her father’s hair. She looks soft and sleepy though her eyes are as big as saucers.

“Of course,” Harry nods seriously.

Zayn smiles at Noor; a push of his tongue against the back of his teeth and his lips tilting up when he looks at his daughter. Thin fingers dressed in bulky rings push Noor’s hair out of her face. She giggles, burying her face in her baba’s neck and giggling.

“I can get this one changed if you want to start on breakfast,” Zayn offers.

“Uh –” Harry starts, taken off guard. He blinks at Zayn, searching for any maliciousness.

“Baba I can dress my _self_ ,” Noor chides.

Zayn’s face softens and he kisses the tip of Noor’s nose until he blushes and squirms away. “You’re so big, you don’t even need me, hey?”

Noor sighs and rolls her big, big eyes. “I _guess_ you can help me. I want to wear yellow today!”

She finally breaks free of Zayn’s hold and cackles while running towards her room. Zayn chuckles and flashes a small grin at Harry before taking off after her.

Hope blooms in Harry’s chest. Maybe he will see more of Zayn after all. He doubles the batch of pancakes he makes and sneaks in a couple of milk chocolate chips into half of one of Noor’s pancakes as a treat. He can hear her giggling and the bed creaking around in what he assumes to be her jumping on it.

But just as Harry’s planning their itinerary for the day; including Zayn into their hula hoop and chalk drawing, Noor comes bounding into the kitchen by her lonesome. She’s wearing a bright yellow tank top with a giant sparkly sunflower that Harry has never seen before and a green skirt that doesn’t match at all.

“Where’s baba?” Harry asks, smearing the maple syrup and butter around her two small pancakes.

“He has lots of work to do,” she tells him. She pulls the plate towards herself and while Harry’s about to hand her a fork and knife, she shoves a pancake in her mouth. Noor manages half of it and with quick fingers Harry pulls it out before she takes a proper bite. His fingers come back sticky with drool dripping down Noor’s chin.

She has the decency to look guilty about her haste. “Sorry. It just smelled so yummy.”

“It will taste even yummier if you don’t choke half to death,” Harry informs her.

Noor ducks her head. Harry impulsively uses his non-sticky fingers to push her hair back. It’s stuck under a white headband, but tufts are falling onto her forehead regardless.

From Zayn’s bedroom, Harry can hear music playing. Harry scolds himself for thinking Zayn could want anything to do with him and Noor.

\---

Harry fusses all day inside the suite. Knowing that Zayn is thirty feet away, typing on his laptop, or drinking from the minibar, has Harry on edge. It’s worse than having Carlos around, this feeling of always being watched. When Noor starts whining about the size of her apple slices, Harry fears Zayn’s going to burst through the door and fire him. When Noor makes a mess of her construction paper, Harry cleans up after her immediately. They have a dance party in Noor’s room as to not disturb Zayn and when Noor starts laughing and jumping on her bed, Harry hastily hushes her.

He doesn’t risk taking Noor out for the day because he’s tired and she doesn’t seem excited at all to play with the toys Harry brought her. She sticks her head in the box and complains that they look like they’re someone else’s. Harry’s reminded for one of the first times ever how Noor is quite a spoilt child.

Leaving the Malik’s suite is ominous. Harry cajoles Noor into a tight hug which she half-heartedly gives him. She’s too distracted by the television to properly return it and he kisses the top of her head before making his exit.

When he gets to his house, he surpasses his own room in favour of walking over to Liam’s and flopping on top of him.

“Harry,” Liam scolds. He’s got his laptop open by his pillow and is lying on his stomach. Harry’s legs hang off the side of the bed as he maneuvers them around until he’s slotted between Liam and the wall.

“I had a bad day Li.”

“Hi Harry,” Sophia says and Harry whips his head up. He smacks the back of his head against the wall and her laugh is muffled by the poor audio of the laptop. Harry gives a half-wave to the computer screen.

“Hi. Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s alright,” she says. She smiles at him and she looks beautiful in the baggy top that is no doubt Liam’s. She’s make up free with her hair piled high on top of her head, twirled into a bun.

Liam’s head is buried in his arm in annoyance.

“How are you?” Harry asks. He shoves at Liam until he can get more of his face on screen. He hasn’t talked to Sophia in weeks, maybe a month.

“I’m good thanks. I started my new job today.”

Harry reaches out to angle the laptop closer to him. “Where are you working?”

“I’m a bridal consultant.”

“Oh, that’s fun!” Harry makes himself comfortable, kneeing Liam accidentally. “How was it?”

“ _Harry_ ,” Liam groans. “Go away. We’re having a conversation.”

Harry frowns, ready to get up, but Sophia stops him.

“Well not anymore,” Sophia laughs. “Stay Harry, Liam’s just being grouchy.”

“I am not. I-”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow Li. Alright?”

Harry looks away from the screen guiltily. He doesn’t say anything as they whisper their intimate departures. “Bye Harry,” Sophia says, waving a little sadly.

“Bye Soph. It was good talking to you.”

Liam closes the laptop and slides it onto the ground. Harry tentatively reaches out, patting Liam’s shoulders.

“I am sorry Li. I didn’t know.”

“That’s alright Harry. I’m just a little homesick.”

“We could make a shepherd’s pie? We can look up some episodes of _Coronation Street_?”

Liam sits up against the headboard and shakes his head. “That’s alright. How was work? You sounded distressed by your text message.”

“It was awful. I met Zayn.” Liam’s eyes widen and Harry barrels on. “We got into an argument.”

“You got – but it’s Zayn Malik.”

Harry glares at him. “He was an arsehole. He was smoking with the bloody balcony door wide open and the smoke was wafting into the room. I started yelling at him and now I’ve lost my job.”

“He _fired_ you?”

“Not yet! But he will! He spent the entire day in his room. He’s going to destroy me.”

Liam lifts the covers so Harry and wiggle his way into the bed and snuggle up alongside Liam. He buries his head in Liam’s shoulder and breathes in the way he smells a bit like home.

“Everything will work out. And if it doesn’t, Marti will always give you your job back. Just apologize if you see him tomorrow.”

\---

Surprisingly, Zayn beats Harry to the punch.

“Hey,” Zayn says when Harry steps foot into the sitting room. Harry’s heart lurches from the surprise, cheeks turning beet red. He feels like a child who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Uh…” Harry swallows, looking anywhere except at Zayn. He’s not used to Zayn being out of his room when Harry arrives. “No worries,” he mumbles confusedly.

When he finally looks at Zayn, he looks sheepish; embarrassed. Harry can empathize.

“No it uh, it was me. You’re doing a great job with Noor and I’m just stressed so.”

Harry wants to ask why Zayn’s stressed. He’s on a beautiful island with everything at his fingertips. His daughter is being taken care of and so are his groceries; there are no bills to pay, no mouths to feed, and he can spend as much time tanning on his patio as he’d like. He chooses to be holed up in his bedroom. He chooses not to spend time with his child.

“I’ll smoke on my own balcony from now on so it doesn’t get into the house.” Zayn’s hands are clasped in front of him, toes pointed in. He sounds genuine, though Harry doesn’t know if it’s an act. He knows how celebrities are. He read Joe Jonas’ tell all article where he talked about the media training he had. Zayn would definitely have gone through it. He would know how to schmooze.

“I have asthma,” Harry says dumbly. He wants to kick himself because he’s not meant to be provoking an argument, especially not one with his employer.

Zayn’s lips quirk a bit at that, but he doesn’t argue with Harry. “It won’t happen again.”

“Okay,” Harry answers simply. He’s really confused by Zayn’s sudden change in attitude.

“Well, I better get back,” Zayn says vaguely. He turns and walks off, socked feet making no sound as he patters across the hardwood floor.

Harry wanders over to Noor’s room and knocks once before poking his head in. She’s lying on her side, curled up into the fetal position as she sleeps. She looks at peace, making soft little snuffling sounds. Noor looks too comfortable to be woken up and Harry finds himself pushing her hair from her face. She must have had a long night if she’s sleeping in so late.

At a loss for what to do, Harry settles into one of the settees in the main room. He texts his mum and sister in their group chat for a bit. They respond quickly with rapid-fire remarks. Harry smiles at his phone, missing them inexplicably. They don’t get much time to talk with the time difference and the way Harry misses them so much sometimes that he can’t bear to talk to them.

Noor wakes up just as Harry’s mum is coming off her lunchbreak. She crawls into Harry’s lap sleepy and warm. She wraps her arms around Harry’s neck and snuggles into his chest. Harry strokes up and down her back for a while before she speaks up. “Can I give you tattoos today?”

So that’s what they do. Harry rolls the sleeves of his T-shirt up and lets Noor draw with sparkly pens all up and down his arms. It doesn’t smell and it doesn’t burn his skin. Noor presses too hard sometimes and gets frustrated when she can’t draw the picture the same as what she wants it to be. It’s adorable though, the way her tongue sticks out the side of her mouth and her eyebrows draw in.

“Do you like tattooing me?” Harry asks preventing himself from squirming as Noor digs the pen into his elbow pit. He’s always been a bit ticklish there.

“Mhmm. You have more room on your arms than baba.”

Harry hums in his throat, thinking back to Zayn’s arms, his torso, covered in tattoos. The way they accumulated along with muscle and facial hair. He cuts the thought off abruptly. “Does baba have room on his legs?”

“Mhmm. I drew a princess crown on his ankle and he said he was going to get it put there when we go home.”

Harry doesn’t know if Noor knows how far away that is. That she’s here for another month and a half and it’s going to be a long while before she sees her family and her mum or her friends.

“That would look nice.”

Noor nods enthusiastically. She natters on about all the different tattoos she gave Zayn and how she ran out of ink on her green pen. “That’s baba’s favourite colour,” she tells him.

“S’a good colour.” Noor digs her fingers into his bicep to keep him still. “What’s yours?”

“I like grey.”

“You like grey?”

Noor nods, her tongue poking through her lips. “Yes. I really like elephants and those are grey.”

“You’re so strange Noor,” Harry teases. He pokes her in the cheek and earns a smile.

“ _You’re_ strange.” Noor pokes him in the cheek back, but it’s more like a stab. To add power to the punch she says, “And your feet stink.”

\---

Harry wakes up at half twelve.

He had woken up when Liam left for work an hour earlier and curses the fact that his flatmate and Niall both have work on his day off. He eats a banana and changes into his swim trunks. He doesn’t bother with sunscreen because he’s unsure how long he will stay by the pool for. Once he gets there though, he quickly realizes that he is too fidgety to even sit on a lounger.

He can’t find a comfortable position, nor can he lay long enough to relax his mind. His knee itches and then his thigh twinges. Bugs feel like they’re crawling over his skin and he can’t get the thought out of his head once it’s planted there.

Harry contemplates golf, but doesn’t want to commit to the entire 18 holes. He doesn’t particularly like the front half and the back half is the hardest. He could go into town, but he’d have to rent one of the resort vehicles and the town is no fun by himself.

Online shopping doesn’t soothe him either. He looks on _Alexander McQueen_ and _Yves Saint Laurent_ , but every scarf and billowy shirt he sees doesn’t appeal to him like they normally would.

Harry gives up around three. Changing into a pair of basketball shorts and a loose T-shirt, he ties his hair into a bun on his walk to the Malik’s door.

They don’t respond to the knock on the door and he clicks the doorbell and waits. Like his mother taught him, he begins to count to eight. The door swings open when Harry reaches seven and Zayn is standing there with a bit of a confused smile.

“Harry-”

“Harry!” Noor shrieks as she collides into Harry’s legs. She nearly knocks him over with the force of her hug and the enthusiasm she emits has Harry bending down to scoop her into a hug. Twenty-four hours away from this girl and he already had separation sadness. “Baba said you weren’t coming over today, but I knew you would.”

She looks so happy that Harry has no idea what to say. Zayn pulls the door open wider, a silent invitation.

Harry carries Noor back into the suite and locks the door behind him. Zayn’s turned to make his way into the kitchen. There’s a massive blanket fort set up in the middle of the living room, cushions and blankets are everywhere and there are brooms in the center holding the fort up.

“Look what baba set up.”

“Sick!” Harry sets Noor on her feet to peer inside the tent. There is a packet of crisps and some cut up cucumber sticks on a paper plate.

“Go inside,” Zayn says softly, leaning against the side of the couch. Harry ducks inside, following Noor on his hands and knees.

“This is awesome. How long did it take you to set up?”

“An hour or so? We’re sleeping in it tonight, right mari jaan?” Zayn asks as he joins them inside.

Noor nods, shoving a handful of barbeque crisps into her mouth. “I was on FaceTime with mummy and Lother showing them my sparkly nails,” she pauses to present a hand painted carefully in sparkles, “and I came to give baba back his phone and it was all set up!”

She throws her hands in the air, bumping into the pole in the middle. Zayn and Harry grab it instinctively, Harry’s hand wrapped tight over Zayn’s. “Uh,” Harry stares at them. He tucks his hand under his thigh, quick as a whip. “You’re a very lucky girl.”

“Mhmm, baba’s the best!” Noor hops into Zayn’s lap, dragging the bag of crisps with her. Zayn kisses her forehead and smooths her hair back, looking completely smitten.

They sit in the blanket fort, eating snacks as Noor tells Harry a bunch of stories about going on tour with Zayn. Zayn has his phone out and is showing Harry pictures of Noor in every state they visited. She seems happy and clings to Zayn, recounting her favourite pancake place and the one time she had a tummy bug and was so sick she couldn’t see the town.

“Baba,” Noor whispers when Zayn’s telling Harry about Noor’s most recent Halloween costume as Batman. “I have to pee.”

“Can you go by yourself?” He asks, tugging on her earlobe. Noor nods and climbs over their laps.

Harry wants to assist her even if it’s just to stand outside the loo and make sure she actually washes her hands. He doesn’t want to be alone with Zayn.

“What’d you get up to today?” Harry looks up from his hands and scrutinizes Zayn as discreetly as he can. He looks nonchalant, maybe even a bit interested.

“Um… I… well I woke up late so I didn’t do yoga. I usually just splay out my mat and do my own practice, but I didn’t feel like it this morning. I went to the pool though. It was sort of empty. My roommate’s a bartender and my other mate works in the kitchen at _The Pearl_ , it’s the restaurant in the building over. I don’t know if you’ve been. They have really great oysters and this really good butter sauce for the escargot. Oh and-”

Zayn’s staring at him with an amused smile.

“Sorry,” Harry looks back down at his lap and stuffs his hands under his feet. “I tend to ramble.” A blush blossoms on his cheeks and Harry tells himself that it’s strictly from embarrassment and nothing at all with how the light filtering through the sheets makes Zayn’s eyes sparkle.

“S’alright. I should probably get out and try some restaurants around here.”

“Yeah. Noor said you eat in a lot.”

Zayn scrubs his hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t cook much.”

“But you could make anything,” Harry counters. “Your kitchen is massive.”

Zayn shrugs. Noor still isn’t back from the bathroom. “Don’t really use it much. I can’t make anything half as well as my mum.”

“Yeah? What’s your favourite dish that she makes?”

“I can’t even – God. There’s so many.” Zayn bites his lip and leans back on his hands. “She makes this chickpea dish. The masala is out of this world; I don’t know how she does it. It’s got everything you could want in it; onions, cumin, ginger, then over jasmine rice.” Zayn laughs and he looks five years younger. “Sorry I ramble too. The only people I really talk to are Noor and my best friend from home, but he’s a bit of a shit so…”

“Baba you said a naughty word.”

“Jaan you can’t just sneak up like that.”

“I didn’t sneak up.” Noor crosses her arms over her chest. She’s still wearing her nightgown. “You talked loud.”

“We-”

“Can we make s’mores?”

Zayn sighs but nods, getting to his feet.

“When I lived with mummy, baba picked me up for a visit and we stuck tiny marshmallows on toothpicks and stuck them over candles and baba’s caught on fire and he started screaming!” Noor breaks out into a fit of giggles, clutching her stomach and rolling onto her back. Zayn drops to his knees, attacking her with a bunch of tickles.

Noor laughs wildly. Her hair starts to come out of the loose ponytail it was in and her dress slides up to her armpits from her laughing and Zayn’s tickling. Zayn blows raspberries on her stomach as Noor laughs louder.

When Noor finally says mercy, out of breath and flushed from lack of oxygen, Zayn hikes her dress back down and swats her bum. “That’ll teach you to laugh at me again.” He kisses Noor’s cheek as she starfishes on the floor.

“But you’re silly!” Noor defends. “Even Harry agrees!”

“You are very silly. Everyone knows you put the _graham cracker_ over the candle.”

“ _No_ ,” Noor interjects. “You put the marshmallow in the oven on a graham cracker with chocolate. Then it melts and gets all gooey, right baba?”

“Right.”

Harry follows Zayn out of the blanket fort. “So you just have s’more ingredients lying around the house?”

“Nah. I put them on the grocery list.” Zayn navigates the kitchen cupboards with the same ease that Harry does. “We were given a personal assistant through the resort so I just give them a list and they get everything on Mondays and Thursdays.”

“So you don’t leave?”

“Don’t really fancy getting spotted,” Zayn shrugs. He bends over to get the cookie sheet out from under the island and Harry definitely does not check out his arse again.

“The island’s safe. No paparazzi are allowed on the island and there’s a no press policy at the resort.”

“Don’t want to take any chances with Noor.” He doesn’t say anything more and Harry doesn’t press.

\---

Harry’s full of warm chocolate and gooey marshmallows. He’s had one too many graham crackers and a generous glass of skim milk that Zayn brought for him. Noor’s on her back and clutching her stomach with a sleepy smile on her lips. Harry and Zayn flank her sides, propped up by their elbows.

It’s dark outside. The artificial light is blocked by the blankets, though it still creeps in the sides and filters gently through the top. The three of them have been sitting in the fort with their snacks for the past two hours. Harry didn’t even realize how late it was. But now, it certainly feels late with the way Zayn can’t seem to stop covering his yawns.

“Think it’s about time I head home,” Harry announces, splaying his fingers on top of Noor’s hands. It nearly covers her entire stomach.

He tickles her sides until she’s pushing his hand away moaning, “Too full.”

“And whose fault is that missy?” Zayn asks.

Harry bites his tongue. It was very much Zayn’s fault for making so many and not cutting Noor off after her third like he would have.

“But they were so yummy baba.” Noor grins and rearranges herself so she’s cuddled closer to Harry. “Will you have a slumber party with me?”

“Um,” Harry tangles their fingers together, trying to find the right words. The fort’s already cramped as it is with three bodies and it’s stuffy inside. Harry’s never been good with confined spaces and the minimal conversation between Zayn and him has been suffocating. “I don’t have any jammies.”

The beginnings of a temper tantrum begin when Noor frowns. Her eyebrows get crinkly and her bottom lip wobbles. Her eyes, usually bright like the stars Harry can only see in the cloudless Anguilla night, turn stormy.

“You can borrow some of mine.” Zayn’s lips quirk, a smirk forming. It’s cocky, slightly arrogant and Harry doesn’t like the way Zayn seems to be challenging him.

“Yay!” Noor cheers as if it’s the best news she’s heard all night. She flings herself on top of Harry and digs a knee into his stomach accidentally. He jolts, feeling nauseas as bile rises up his throat. Gingerly, he nudges Noor until she’s sitting on her shins in front of him.

“How about you brush your teeth while I find some jammies for Harry?”

Noor jumps to her feet, narrowly avoiding knocking one of the brooms over.

“I can just stay until Noor goes to sleep,” Harry suggests when Zayn makes no move to get up.

“S’chill.”

Harry picks at the loose thread on the inseam of his jeans when Zayn leaves. He spends so much time in the suite day in and day out that he no longer feels like an intruder when he’s here for work. Tonight though, with Noor buzzing under the attention from Zayn and hanging on his every word, Harry feels like he’s interrupting the precious time they have with each other.

Noor comes back before Zayn does. Her nightgown appears to be replaced with one of Zayn’s concert shirts taken in at the sides. It comes down to her knees and she points brightly at Zayn’s side profile. “This is from when baba was a lot younger,” Noor explains plopping down into Harry’s lap. “I lived with mummy and he was singing in America.”

Her fingers brush over the printed on promotional picture. Harry remembers it from when he looked up pictures of Zayn and it’s one of him with his hands in a prayer position bowing his head just so. His eyes are closed and his hair is shaved at the sides and in a bun atop his head. Zayn’s jaw line is so prominent it looks like it was sculpted by Donatello.

“Baba brings me a shirt for every time he goes away and sings.”

“Lucky girl,” Harry says, swallowing the lump welling up in his throat. He wonders how many shirts Noor’s collected in her short life.

Noor twists in Harry’s lap. Her bony knees dig into his thighs as she faces him. She collects most of Harry’s hair into her two fists and pushes it to the crown of his head. “You should do your hair like baba’s.”

“Would you shave the sides of my head for me?”

“Mhmm! Baba let me shave his beard once,” her fingers tickle along Harry’s jaw. “But then I accidentally cut him!” She digs her fingers just below Harry’s bottom lip. “But it’s okay because he says it didn’t hurt him. My baba’s really tough.”

“He is,” Harry agrees, tangling his fingers with Noor’s. “You’ll have to start shaving your own beard soon,” Harry tickles under Noor’s chin.

“I will not have to shave!” Noor says aghast. “Don’t be silly Harry.”

“I am being pretty silly, aren’t I?” Harry asks, brushing his fingers along her sides until he can wiggle his fingers in her most ticklish spot between her ribs and her waist. “Aren’t I?” he roars, flipping her onto her back so he can annoy her properly.

Noor kicks her feet up, trying to grab at Harry’s hands to no avail.

“Baba! Baba, help me,” Noor laughs, gasping for breath.

Zayn ducks his head in, tossing the clothes in his hand onto the couch. “Oh no meri jaan, it looks like you’re being attacked by the tickle monster!”

“Baba help me!” Noor cries, reaching up for her father.

Zayn gives a mighty shout, swooping in and lifting Noor up and out of Harry’s reach. Harry’s flushed and breathless, just as out of breath as Noor is.

Noor takes a deep inhale, blowing the air out in Zayn’s face. “Can I have another S’more please?”

“You ate them all,” Zayn laughs, flicking her nose. Noor rolls her eyes, but resumes her spot on the mattress.

Harry gets up then and excuses himself to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth with his finger and minty toothpaste before he ties his hair into a ponytail with one of Noor’s sparkly scrunchies. He folds his clothes up and leaves them on the counter next to the sink.

Harry can hear them whispering quietly when he gets back to the living room. It’s completely dark outside now, well passed Noor’s bedtime, but Zayn seems unbothered. Noor is cuddled into Zayn’s chest as Harry makes his entrance.

“Baba’s gonna tell a bedtime story,” Noor’s says excitedly as Harry slips back into the fort. She wiggles around like an excited pup then clasps her hands together.

“S’it a good story?” Harry asks. The answer is evident from the smile on Noor’s face.

“Yes. It’s about a king meeting a queen and having a princess and it’s my favourite!”

“Oh, sounds lovely.” Harry bops Noor’s nose before leaning onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow.

Noor folds her hands behind her head and stares up at the roof of the fort. Harry can barely make out her facial features, but he can see how wide her smile stretches.

“Are you going to tell Harry how it works so he doesn’t get confused?”

“It’s finish the sentence,” Noor says dutifully. “So when baba pauses you have to say the word that come next.”

“Um, alright. I think I can try that.”

“Okay, ready meri jaan?” Zayn rubs his hands together and mirrors Harry’s position. “Once upon a time… in a land far, far away… There was a…” Zayn pauses, eyeing Noor.

“Malik!” Noor shrieks.

“Good. Want to tell Harry what that means?”

“It means king. Even though I’m a girl and it’s my last name.”

“S’a gangster last name,” Zayn laughs. “Anyway, one day the king was on a grand adventure in a foreign country when he spotted a…”

“Malikah!”

Harry laughs gently at Noor’s enthusiasm.

“It means queen,” Zayn explains when Noor doesn’t. “The king and queen had a great night. They danced the night away and sang and drank lots and lots of orange juice. They only had eyes for each other and in that moment the king and queen wanted to create something as a symbol…”

Zayn’s voice is soft, fond in a way that he’s never heard even towards Noor. Harry’s confused for a moment before Noor hesitantly says, “s-i-m-b-e-l.”

“Close. Harry do you want to try spelling it?”

Harry nods before realizing that Zayn can’t see it. “Um… s-y-m-b-o-l.”

“Does that sound right to you, Noor?”

“Mhmm,” she says sleepily.

“Alright. So, the king and queen made an…”

“Emira,” Noor inputs with less enthusiasm than before.

“Exactly, an emira… a ray of light to shine on the king and queen as they spent long days and nights apart. The longer the king and queen were separated, the less love they felt for each other until the only thing connecting them was the beautiful baby princess. The princess brought so much joy and happiness into their lives that they weren’t even sad about their lost love anymore. All that mattered to them was the gorgeous princess.” Zayn combs his fingers through Noor’s hair. “And even though the princess doesn’t always get to see her mummy and baba all the time she’s still a beautiful light in their lives. Right jaan?”

“Love you,” Noor hums.

Harry remains quiet as Zayn dips down to give her a goodnight kiss.

“Should I go now?” Harry says as quietly as he can, hoping Noor doesn’t hear him.

“Slumber party,” Noor mumbles. Zayn snorts and Harry finds himself joining it. Noor shuffles closer to Harry and twists her fingers into Harry’s – well, Zayn’s – shirt.

“That was a nice story,” Harry tells Zayn after counting to ten. He whispers the words, still wary of their relationship.

“Yeah, thanks. Noor loves it. She has it memorized and she’s been working on her spelling.”

“We’ll work on it.”

“You’re doing a great job with her. I wasn’t sure – I didn’t know what bringing her would be like and I didn’t want to just… it wasn’t my idea to have someone babysit her while I’m here but I’m making a new album and I’m on a time crunch because I was being a bit of an arse to the label so… I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“Um… no, yeah. I’m having a great time. Noor’s great.”

“Yeah. She’s brilliant, hey?”

“Hilarious. She’s a firecracker. Must get it from you?”

“Eh, not really. I think she gets it from my best mate. Louis Tomlinson, do you know him?”

“No,” Harry admits with zero remorse.

“He’s a songwriter, though we don’t work together. He’s more into pop and rock. Anyway, he’s an absolute idiot who barely knows how to tie his shoes, but he goes crazy over her. They get cause so much mayhem when I leave them together.”

“Sounds like trouble.”

“Oh it is. He’s having a kid of his own soon. It was unplanned, like Noor, but I don’t know what he’s really thinking on the matter. He doesn’t seem too arsed but I know he’ll be a great father, like, proper there for everyone y’know?”

“Yeah,” Harry says even though he doesn’t. He barely remembers his biological father aside from relayed stories that Gemma’s told him and the sparse visits on holidays and birthday cards. Maybe if Harry had made it big like Zayn had his father would take a more active approach into his life. “So how’s the album writing coming along?”

“Not very well if I’m honest. I’ve always been rubbish with writing lyrics if I don’t have a backing track or something to listen to. I’ve got to write a single by the end of our stay.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Harry encourages. “You’ve got ten more weeks.”

“God, I wish it was that easy. I mainly write about stupid things; partying, drinking, exes and past hookups. I don’t know… I want something different. I want something more meaningful. I’ve got four albums in seven years under my belt and I just want to do something different. I want to set a good example for Noor and reinvent myself with a more mature sound.”

“Can’t get more mature than hooking up and drinking,” Harry teases.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I want to write more about love, but I know nothing about that.”

“Oh come on. You’ve got to have had like, one true great love or something.”

“Nah, don’t think I have man,” Zayn disagrees. “Like, I’ve got Noor, but I’ve never had like, someone, y’know? For me.”

“That’s a bit sad,” Harry comments.

Zayn laughs and in the moonlight filtering through the blankets Harry can see him rubbing his thumb along Noor’s side. Harry closes his eyes. The warmth in the fort is soothing. Oddly enough, so is Zayn’s voice.

“I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

“No, no. M’wide awake.”

“Let’s hear about your great love then.”

Harry props himself back up on his elbow. “Okay so… I was fourteen years old and Jack Robinson stole my girlfriend.”

“What?”

“Jack Robinson. We weren’t even friends and he stole my girlfriend. Just, we were dating one day and the next she was telling everyone she made me cry and I gave Jack a black eye trying to win her back.”

“Shut up that did not happen.”

“Swear to God!” Harry says a tad too loudly. They both suck in a breath waiting for Noor to tell them to be quiet, but she only snuffles into the pillow a little bit.

“What happened then?”

“Jack dumped her and we snogged behind a rubbish bin after class when everyone thought we were going to have a fight on the field.”

Zayn snorts, “S’a lie.”

“It’s not. We snogged and when I tried to get a bit handsy he pushed me off and ran away. He had a new girlfriend a week later, but my poor heart was crushed.”

“I thought this was a story about how the girl broke your heart, not Jack.”

“Well I would have never snogged Jack if she hadn’t dumped me for him.”

“That’s ridiculous. Truly heartbreaking.”

“I’d let you write a song about it, but then I’d have to sue you for selling my story.”

Zayn laughs again, just a huff of air wheezing from his lungs. Harry flops back onto his back and closes his eyes. The night didn’t turn out at all how he expected. He’s almost embarrassed to admit that his time with Noor and Zayn was the highlight of his day; almost embarrassed to admit that he thinks Zayn is pretty cool after all. He dozes off with a smile on his face.

\---

Harry presses his key card against the lock and waits for the light to flash green. The bottoms of Zayn’s joggers are tucked into his boots uncomfortably and he just wants to change out of these clothes and lie in his own bed. The blankets he had fallen asleep on, though initially comfortable, left his back sore and aching when he woke up with a start this morning. He had abruptly left as to not wake up Noor or Zayn.

Harry had closed the door with the same delicacy that he opens his own front door. He turns around to shut it with the softest of sounds as to not wake Liam, but – “You’re home late.”

Harry freezes. The last time he was caught sneaking in, he was seventeen and coming home from sneaking out to go to a club with his older friends on a school night. His mother had yelled at him, turning red in the face as she swatted at him with a dish towel. She had looked like she hadn’t slept a wink and he had felt immensely guilty as well as drunk. Still, Anne had made him a cup of tea before sending him to bed for a mere three hours of sleep.

“You’re up early.” Harry toes out of his sneakers, haphazardly placing them on the shoe mat.

“Harry,” Liam sighs. He waits for Harry to face him before opening his mouth again, though he snaps it shut soon after. His face contorts into an even more disappointed face. “That’s not your shirt and those aren’t – Harry who’s clothes are those?”

“I don’t want to hear it Liam. I’m just really tired. I’ll tell you later alright?”

“Harry-”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Harry says by way of explanation.

Liam appraises him for a moment before finally nodding. “I’m going for a run then I told Josh I’d go into town with him. Text me if you want any particular groceries, alright?”

“Alright,” Harry nods.

Before he can take another step, Liam pulls him in for a hug. “Don’t sleep too long, alright? You’ve got work in a few hours.”

\---

Harry doesn’t sleep. Instead, he streams Zayn’s music.

It’s accessible on Spotify and Harry starts at what seems to be the beginning of Zayn’s career. He had never cared for Zayn’s music when he was younger, hearing it via his friends or at parties. It was always peripheral while he snogged a girl against a wall or chatted up some fit older bloke. His active self-ban on listening to Zayn is lifted now, eight years after Zayn’s start-up. He waits until he’s sure Liam has left the flat before letting Zayn’s voice fill the room.

His voice is beautiful, like Harry remembers from the few X Factor videos he had previously watched. There’s more content on Spotify though and Harry clicks random song titles and listens to a couple of snippets here and there. Zayn’s early work is cringe worthy. The lyrics are cheesy and have a definitive rhyme scheme along with a pop/R&B melody. It sounds slightly auto-tuned and insincere.

While the song plays Harry finds himself Googling Zayn for the second time on the island, though this time it’s to look up facts about his life. He learns that Zayn is from Bradford, East Bowling to be specific, and that he has three sisters. Noor has mentioned her aunties a few times, but it’s with the same passiveness of any child. Sugarscape has some early articles about how Zayn prefers dogs to cats, though would have both if he could. His favourite cake is chocolate and his favourite food is chicken because he doesn’t eat any other kind of meat. Sugarscape also has a Top Ten SEXIEST Zayn Malik Smolders that Harry very forcefully doesn’t click on. He’s meant to be doing research on his employer, not getting side-tracked by appealing headlines.

Harry makes the executive decision to skip forward to Zayn’s second album. It was released two years after the first and the song titles are mostly two words. It has a richer sound, Zayn’s voice deeper and the base a little dirtier. Harry clicks on one song – The Light – with an intrigue he hasn’t had with any others. It’s a slower song, more of a lullaby than a love song.

Distractedly, Harry unlocks his phone and quickly types in ‘ _Noor, name definition_.’ A grin breaks out over his face when he sees that its Arabic definition is exactly that: the light. He gets lost in the song. Harry looks up the lyrics and scans them along as it plays all the way through. Then again and again until Harry’s got the chorus and half the bridge memorized.

It prompts him to pull out his own journal. Harry reads over some short poems he’s written; small little nothings when creativity sparks. Whether it’s alcohol induced or after smoking a horridly strong joint with Niall, Harry scribbles the words down whenever they come to mind. Sometimes it’s gibberish and other times they’re beautiful words careening together.

Harry lets the songs flow together as he writes some words out, crossing out a few as he goes so it flows better. He doesn’t have a particular melody in mind, but he does have brown, brown eyes and a smirking grin.

\---

Much to Harry’s disappointment, Zayn isn’t present when Harry shows up to the Malik’s suite that morning. The blanket fort is deconstructed and Noor’s waiting for him at the breakfast bar with her hands on her hips and a stern expression scrunching her face.

She babbles on about how she woke up alone and her baba had to make waffles just to cheer her up. Then she demands to go to the pool. Harry placates her with pool toys and lots of tosses in the air as soon as they get to the pool. His arms ache by the time her fingers wrinkle and the sun pinks her cheeks.

Noor’s asleep on Harry’s shoulder before they’re halfway up the lift. He tucks her under a blanket in her room then assesses the ingredients in the cupboards and fridge. There are going to have to be modifications for the standard chocolate cake he used to make at the bakery, but he’s confident he can do it. And if the decadent scent prompts Zayn to enter the kitchen, well then that’s just a bonus.

Harry’s scrubbing dried chocolate cake batter off the counter when he sees it. It’s a moleskin journal similar to the one he has sitting in his bedside drawer. Zayn’s bedroom door is closed completely and with a glance to Noor’s room, he observes that her door is closed too.

With a raging curiosity and zero self-control, Harry thumbs it open to a random page.

Immediately, Harry realizes that the words are lyrics. They rhyme a bit, but it seems forced, just a tad bit illegible with the tilted scrawl. He flips the pages until he reads what was last written and tries to find the rhythm it would fit. It’s cheesy and the words seem dishonest, nothing like a true love Zayn had rattled on about last night.

Harry finds little spots to change words. His fingers itch with the urge to grab a pen and correct some phrases.

“That’s baba’s!”

Harry jumps, dropping the journal to the floor. He scrambles to pick it up, willing the heat in his cheeks to go down. He did nothing wrong – it just, it just happened and he’s not hurting anyone.

“Baba says not to touch his stuff.”

Harry shuffles to Noor and scoops her into his arms. She’s raising her voice and he would rather not have Zayn hear what she’s saying. The last thing he needs is for their amicable relationship to take a sour turn.

“I didn’t know,” Harry says quietly. Noor doesn’t look like she’s buying it, but she fists her hands in Harry’s curls. “I made cake,” he says as a distraction technique. “You’re just in time to help me make a glaze.”

“I want frosting,” Noor says, peaking around Harry’s shoulder to look at the oven.

“We don’t have all the ingredients for frosting.”

“Fine,” Noor pouts. She squirms in Harry’s hold until he puts her down. It’s terribly rude and something he’s been trying to correct by asking her to use her words.

Zayn comes out from hiding just before Harry’s meant to leave. Their bellies are full of cake and an impending sugar high on Noor’s part. Zayn smells a bit like smoke, the stench seeping into the room through his now open door.

“Smells good,” Zayn greets. His top is loose, a tank style that shows off the ink on his arms and sternum. Harry’s stare is fleeting.

“Thanks. Made it while this one took a nap.”

Noor grins, chocolate still smeared on the corner of her lips. “I helped make the glaze.”

“Good girl. Did you do the washing up as well?”

Noor bites her bottom lip, wrinkling her nose adorably. Harry reaches out and grabs it, mimicking a honk before she gets a chance to bat his hands away. She looks perfectly disgruntled. Zayn catches Harry eyes above her head, a lazy smirk on his lips.

\---

It’s sometime after twilight, where the sky is a hue of gentle oranges dusted by a bubble gum pink to paint over the sky blue, as the sea splashes below Harry.

He’s been sat on their small deck with his feet on the railing in nothing but his pants like Liam hates with a glass of blackberry cider for the better part of an hour. His quinoa and cauliflower curry sits heavy in his stomach as he watches the waves in the distance.

The water has always calmed him. It’s part of the reason why he chose Anguilla. He can take a dip in a pool or an ocean any time of the day, any season of the year. He can soak in a hot tub or dig his toes in the sand until they start to itch. When he’s anxious or nervous, his first instinct is to peer out the closest window or careen his head until he can see the magnificent ocean.

Even when he was a child, his mother made day trips to Wallasey with Gemma and him to counter the deafening silence in the house during the summer months. The first Harry has lingering memories of the first summer after his father left. He recalls sitting on a picnic blanket with his mum and eating a sandwich while Gemma played in the ocean. He remembers how he clung to his mother’s leg while they made their first steps to the water and he let the water wash over his feet, lick up to his knees.

The way the salty air kissed his skin that day, the way the sun had darkened it even though Anne ensured to apply sun cream liberally and frequently, fuelled his love for the ocean. Gemma would get sick of Harry begging to visit the beach and made up her own game where they sat in the bathtub with water covering their knees, dumping salt rocks to get the scent to fill the room.

Harry tries not to think of his family. He saves thoughts of his mother’s dark hair and soothing smile, the wrinkles forming by her eyes and the corner of her lips when she presents him a steaming cup of tea for days when he’s lonely. Thinking of Gemma, with her eccentric style and quick-wit, how he still has yet to visit her new London flat with her attorney of a boyfriend Brian, always sends a nauseas wave of guilt over him.

He settles the thought with a sip of cider and when it doesn’t go away he takes another. Harry breathes in for four seconds to fill his lungs then exhales for four seconds down to the very last molecule of air.

With eight months passed and four more to go, Harry’s missed birthdays and holidays. Christmas was spent crying over Skype and sulking with Niall. Harry’s uncertain if he’ll continue to travel from here. He’s entertained the idea of spending an extended period of time travelling South America or Africa when his contract is up, but he tries not to think of it for too long. Of how his mother whispers that she loves him before he ends a conversation because the thought of talking to her for too long, hearing about how she and Robin are doing, how Dusty is still leaping for birds and chasing mice, sends an ache for home.

Though, he doesn’t know where home is exactly. It’s no longer in Holmes Chapel with his mum and stepdad, Not Manchester where he spent four years studying and living in a glorified shoe box. It’s not Anguilla, try as Harry might to make it a permanent home. He doesn’t feel at home in this building, in this room, when he’s here all by himself.

Harry feels at home, at peace, when he’s with people. With Niall when he has an arm around his shoulder, pressing beer stained kisses to his cheeks as they eat greasy nachos and chat shit about work. Or when he’s making fajitas for dinner with Liam humming Chris Brown under his breath and telling Harry about another one of his sister’s failed dates. Even when Harry spends time with Noor, the yearning for a place to belong is dampened.

His affection for Noor grows every day; their bond quickly strengthening with every spelling lesson, every encouragement to try a new food she’s hesitant on. Their relationship is quickly becoming a mess of co-dependency that he doesn’t want to think about.

Ten weeks, Harry thinks, drinking the rest of his cider.

\---

“Catch me!” Noor shrieks. Her hair is in two tight space buns that Harry tied for her. She’s on the couch, shifting her weight side to side as she prepares to fling herself off the couch and into Harry’s arms. He widens his stance in rebuttal, squatting a bit like a weightlifter.

Noor leaps, landing squarely in Harry’s hands. He flings her up, releasing his hold before catching her quickly. Her laugh is infectious as she squeezes her forearms around his neck. It’s grounding, reassuring, that someone so small and full of life places that much trust in him.

Harry gently tosses her onto the couch. Noor bounces a bit before scrambling onto her feet. Her clothes are rumpled, but her hair perfect. She jumps again, this time to the left. Harry wobbles as he catches her, protectively trapping her to his chest until he’s sure he won’t topple over and whack them both into the television set.

“Careful now.”

Harry lurches at Zayn’s voice. It’s neither angry nor nervous it’s – teasing? Harry sets Noor down, who crumples into a cross legged position, and fixes Zayn with a smile. Zayn’s smiling back, that half smirk that Harry’s growing more and more accustomed to.

“Baba, your turn!”

“Don’t think he could lift me meri jaan.” Zayn’s eyes do something horrible and terrible where they drag over Harry’s arms and down to his feet before settling on his face, his eyes. “He is quite strong though.”

“Could try,” Harry flirts before realizing what he’s doing. He claps his hands together when the silence stretches on half a beat too long. “Should get home,” he announces.

“No,” Noor whines, crossing her arms. “You said you’d have supper with me.”

“Um… I said maybe,” Harry corrects because it’s not completely a lie. “Soon though.”

“When?”

Zayn chuckles behind Harry. “You could always stay.”

Harry shakes his head, glancing at a sad looking five-year-old. “Should probably get home to my roommate, I feel like I haven’t properly seen him in ages.”

“Oh, lad’s night. Have fun.”

Harry’s painfully, completely reminded of the fact that Zayn has literally no one on the island to hang out with. Or well, he assumes he doesn’t since he spends more time in his room or joining Noor and Harry in the living room than he previously has.

“You could – you could always join like, there’s only three of us.”

“Nah. I’ve got this one anyway.”

“Yeah, um…” Harry holds a hand out for Noor to take. She doesn’t, resolutely looking at the floor. “Don’t be upset with me Noor, please.”

“You said you would stay for supper.”

“Tomorrow, how about?”

“You don’t come on Thursdays,” Noor informs him.

“How about Friday then? We can make a yummy supper for you and baba.” Zayn gives him a reassuring nod. The knot in Harry’s chest settles.

“No thank you.”

“Noor,” Zayn goads, “be nice. Harry could be anywhere in the world and he wants to hang out with us after he hangs out with you all day. Pretty sick, right?”

“Maybe.” But Harry sees the beginning of a smile spreading across Noor’s face. Like a dam bursting Noor stands quickly and hugs Harry around the thighs tightly. “I want chicken jalfrezi.”

“Harry can’t make that, jaan. Only daadi.”

“I can try?” Harry shrugs. He has no idea what it is, but he’s got Google and an entire day to go into town and get ingredients.

“No.” Zayn says at the same time Noor cheers loudly.

Harry blushes, tugging on one of Noor’s buns. “How about pizza then?”

\---

“-then we went to the pool and I walked too fast and fell, but I didn’t cry!”

“Slow down,” Harry says around his own piece of pizza.

Noor takes a gasping breath than glugs her chocolate milk. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and looks winded. “I’m just excited Harry.”

“Well,” Harry locks eyes with Zayn over the top of Noor’s head. “Slow down a bit when you talk alright?”

“Fine.” She brushes her hair back with more sass than she should be allowed. Harry ought to take away a sticker just for her attitude. “Anyway baba. I swam in the deep end all by myself!”

“Meri jaan you know how I feel about you swimming by yourself.” Zayn’s brows are furrowed and he looks stern, concerned.

“But baba… Harry was right there and he made sure to hold my hand when we were practicing my kicks.”

Noor turns to Harry for support, with big eyes that beg for backup.

“I worry Noor.”

“Then come to the pool next time.” Noor leaves her food to cross her arms over her chest and glare at her father. Harry should probably step in. He was the one who had suggested that Noor improve her swimming and it’s not like he just dumped her in the pool and wandered off. He was hovering right by her, not even a foot away.

“You know I can’t swim Noor.”

“You can’t?” Harry blurts. He’d seen pictures of Zayn by a hotel pool before, he’s sure of it.

Zayn shrugs, picking an olive off his slice of pizza to add to the rest of the pile on his plate. “Never learned. I don’t like water or heights or like… flying but I got over that one pretty quick.”

“He doesn’t like going outside either, we never go outside.”

Zayn picks a chunk of chicken off now, which Harry knows Zayn likes because it didn’t stop him from eating the rest of the pizza.

“Your baba’s very busy Miss Noor, you know that. How about you tell baba about the man with the goofy sunburn?”

Zayn’s quiet for the rest of the dinner. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and he seems like he’s distracted, always looking towards his bedroom and grunting to Noor instead of actually forming words to respond to her. Zayn takes half bites of his pizza slice and never quite looks in Harry’s direction fully. After the pizza’s completely done, Zayn begs off the sugar cookies Harry and Noor spent all day baking.

It’s far from the ideal meal Harry thought they would have together. He wanted to get to know Zayn better, maybe have another deep conversation like they had just a couple of days ago. As it is, Zayn’s grumpy and Noor’s grumpy and Harry leaves the suite feeling grumpy until he’s snuggled under Liam’s arm while they watch Green Lantern and munch on white cheddar popcorn.

\---

Noor’s a firecracker of energy the next day. They go to the pool again and Noor does handstands and flutter kicks. Her hair is in a bun on top of her head, but she lets it down and tries to do Ariel hair flips as if she’s in the Little Mermaid. Harry indulges her and does his own rendition of the iconic scene, though he ends up getting more whiplash than anything.

Noor has chicken strips and chips for lunch from Niall and talks his head off about how she wants to learn how to Irish dance. Niall pulls her up on her feet and tries to teach here right then and there. There are one or two instances of Noor falling over and Niall laughing so hard trying to pick her back up that he nearly drops her. Noor’s cheeks are scarlet to match Niall’s and they look as thick as thieves by the time Niall’s lunch break is over and he has to go back to work.

Still, they have loads of fun going back to the pool and floating around. Noor’s hair is a mess of knots and salt water but she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. They play pool games and practice her doggy paddle and Noor doesn’t stop laughing unless she’s underwater.

Even now, as she runs through the lobby to get to the lift, Harry has a difficult time keeping up with her. He hoists her up so she can swipe his key card before pushing the button that will ascend them up to her suite.

“I’m going to sleep for the rest of my life,” Noor announces when the lift doors open.

“Yeah? You sure tired yourself out today.”

Noor lulls her tongue out and slumps against the door. “Outta the way missy,” Harry says, nudging her until she’s not at risk of falling over.

He’s still giggling with Noor when they enter the suite, but it cuts off when he sees how furious Zayn looks with him.

“Where were you?” Harry flounders, between shutting the door behind him and toeing out of his flip flops, he can’t get a word in before Zayn’s saying, “I was waiting. I thought she got hurt at the pool. I thought – she could’ve downed or something!”

“She’s fine. We weren’t even out long.”

“It’s four thirty. You’re off at three, I don’t know how you don’t know how to read a clock,” Zayn spits.

“We got caught up,” Harry defends. Noor cowers in between them, torn whether to apologize or latch onto Harry. “Noor’s fine, aren’t ya?”

Noor nods and like chocolate fondue Zayn melts in front of Harry’s eyes.

“We like to spend time outside,” Harry says, still bitter. “She doesn’t do it very often.”

Zayn glares at Harry. If Noor wasn’t here, Harry reckons Zayn would say something snarky to him, something just as biting that cuts just as deep.

Zayn’s shoulders are still high, his frame tense and hands pressed into the pockets of his jeans. His cheeks are pink and he wedges a hand out of his tight pants to smooth down the top of Noor’s head. “Just text me next time or something. I didn’t know how to get a hold of you.”

Harry doesn’t mean to sound like he’s flirting, but he still raises his eyebrows like a challenge and says, “Don’t have your number, mate.”

\---

So it becomes a thing… of sorts.

When they sit under a massive tree and Noor eats a plump peach, juice running red and sticky down her chin, she smiles so wide dimples pop out. Harry tells her to stay still as he takes a picture, letting the shutter snap before putting his phone down. Then again, when Noor climbs up a tree with Harry’s attentive supervision, he pulls out his phone and gets a few pictures of her acting like a monkey. Noor climbs down and sits in his lap, eagerly telling him to send it to her baba.

They go to the beach the next day and Harry helps Noor build a massive sandcastle. The sun is masked behind wonky shaped clouds and the heat isn’t as prominent as it has previously been. The beach is less crowded than usual and Harry doesn’t worry as much when Noor runs like a mad woman towards the waves sliding along the sand. He abandons his beach bag to splash in the water, salt and sand creeping up his legs and clinging to the hair there.

Noor collapses in front of their castle, sand sticking to her wet skin as she rolls around. “Take a picture of me!” She cries, rolling around like a pig in mud. It’s in her hair, her armpits, probably stuck in her bathing suit. Noor pants as she runs over to Harry, looking over his shoulder and dusting sand down his arm. “Send that to baba.”

“Manners please Noor,” he scolds. Nonetheless, he sends it to Zayn with a ‘ _Noor the architect._ ’ While he goads Noor to drink some water Zayn responds ‘ _siiiiick castle!! ;P_ ’

“Baba says you made a sick castle.”

“Send him one of me drinking my water!”

And so it goes until Harry’s day off.

He thinks about popping by the Malik’s suite to say hi or see what they’re doing for the day, but Niall has a free day and Liam’s off for the night so his plans are already made.

He golfs with Niall and watches him flirt with Jade when she’s their waitress at the restaurant. The sun has tinted Niall’s skin red and the sweat on his forehead mats his hair down. He undid the buttons of his golf shirt when he realized that Jade was serving them and Harry can’t help but tease him about it.

“Piss off,” Niall grumps, drinking his iced tea. “S’not my fault I can actually grow chest hair.”

“I’ve got hair!” Harry steals one of his chips just for the accusation.

“You’ve got more on your cock than your chest.” Niall lets out a boom of a laugh, earning the attention of other patrons.

“Dick.” Harry huffs.

“You love me.” Niall pushes his sunglasses back on top of his head. His hair’s still blonde, roots a deep brown that he’s been complaining about getting touched up for ages now. “Anyway. I’m surprised you’re free. You’ve been spending so much time with Noor you’ve barely come by.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Not busy at night,” Niall reminds him. Niall has never been mad at Harry. They’ve never gotten in a proper argument or gone days without texting because they were having a row. They usually drink beer and eat burgers and there was only one time when Niall stopped talking to him. It was when they first watched Brokeback Mountain and Niall was pretending he wasn’t crying when Ennis weeps into Jack’s shirt. He locked himself in his bedroom and refused to come out until Harry said that he also cried in the first scene where Ennis and Jack get into a fistfight.

“Sometimes I stay for dinner. It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I know. It’s just sad, ain’t it? That Zayn’s not around so you have to cook the little one dinner.”

Harry chews his lip. “It’s not like – sometimes he’s there. We like – I made dinner for them last week and that was pretty cool.”

“Yeah. Payno told me about that. Just try not to get attached to her, y’know?”

Harry’s phone vibrates on the table. The sleek black stands out against the burgundy coloured clothe and Niall swipes it before Harry gets a chance to see who it’s from.

“Oh, it’s from Zayn,” Niall sing-songs. Harry tries to get the phone back, but Niall leans back. His chair tips back too far and for a moment he’s suspended. Harry thinks about tipping him all the way over until he’s flat on his back. That would put Harry’s phone at a high risk of being smashed though, so he rights the chair and steals his phone back.

Harry snorts when he sees the picture from Zayn. Noor’s got her face painted like a tiger, her hands making claws and her face scrunched up adorably. She’s wearing an orange shirt with a black skirt and she’s sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. There’s no caption, though there normally isn’t when Zayn sends him a picture. Harry thumbs out ‘ _wiiiiiiccckkkeddd!!_ ’ and avoids the heat from Niall’s stare.

Niall claps Harry’s back, rubbing his shoulder with a warm hand. “They’re here what… two more months? I know you love kids, but don’t let her get too attached. You don’t need to confuse her and fool her into thinking this is permanent or anything.”

“I won’t,” Harry mumbles because he’s sure Noor’s not the one fooling them self.

\---

Harry wakes up seven minutes before his alarm and he knows that today’s going to be something special. He doesn’t scroll through his Instagram feed like he usually does to wake himself up, nor does he spend a couple of minutes wishing for another hour of rest.

He takes a long shower, indulging himself in a slow wank. He hasn’t jerked off in what feels like ages. It’s been even longer since he’s touched someone else, been touched by somebody else. His toes curl as he touches himself, thumb catching on the head of his dick and scrapping a nail over the slit. Harry turns the temperature up a tad. Letting the water scald him, Harry brushes his fingertips over his nipples, teasing them until they’re hard and dark.

The coarse hairs above his cock brush against his knuckles as he gives himself a good tug. Harry tugs on his dick until he’s breathless, until he’s grasping the shower tiles for support with a blank mind. All he can think of is his impending orgasm; spilling onto the shower wall and watching it wash down the drain. Harry goes manic with the need to come, slick wet sounds mixing with his own low groans.

He contemplates fingering himself, quick and dirty with his body wash that smells like apricots. He’d start with two fingers so it would burn a little. Maybe he’d work up to three and half a pinky before he comes down the drain. The thought alone makes his dick jerk.

Harry scrapes his fingers over his thigh tattoo and digs his nails in until he can see crescent moons imprinted. He does it again closer to his inner thigh. Then higher. Then he cups his balls and rolls them around a bit, tugging on them and jerking faster until –

A moan escapes Harry, audible over the water. He bites his fist and wills Liam not to wake up.

His knees shake and his hand is cramped when he’s done, but Harry shampoos his hair and conditions it and gets out with enough time to blow dry it.

He puts on his pair of jean shorts and a grey T-shirt. He brushes his teeth while styling his hair, trying to get the part to fall in the right way. It doesn’t work though – his hair is too fluffy and doesn’t fall the right way. With a frustrated huff, he ties it up with a black scrunchie he borrowed from Noor and grabs a banana for his walk to work.

Noor is in high spirits when she sees him. She lunges at him and lets him swing her around once before placing her back on her bare feet.

“I love your dress today Miss Noor.”

Noor curtsies. “It came in the mail! Baba bought it for me.”

“He did? You’re very lucky.”

Noor nods and brushes a stray hair from her eyes. “And he got me more chalks and jump rope! And I got a bubble blowing set too, it makes butterflies!”

Harry nods as Noor pulls out every new toy Zayn has purchased her. The fact that the toys all have to be used outside doesn’t go past him.

“And he says that we’re going to use them all next Thursday.”

“Hey,” Harry pouts poking her in her tummy, “save some fun for me.”

Noor sighs like it’s the hardest thing she’s going to do in her five short years.

“Vas happenin’?” Zayn walks into the room looking like he’s returned from the runway. He swings his hips a bit and he’s got that half smirk playing at his lips. His shirt is loose again and trackie shorts low. He runs his hands through Noor’s hair until she shakes him off. “Have you told Harry what we’re doing today?”

Harry tries to steady his heartbeat against the way it picks up by the way Zayn says his name. Harr-eh¬. He’s confident Zayn’s said it before at some point. He most definitely has. But has he said it like this? With a thick accent and his tongue swiping out to lick at his plump lower lip?

“Baba says we’re exploring the island.”

Harry grins, glancing up at Zayn and yeah – he could definitely spend a day driving around with Noor and Zayn.

They load up a Chevy that Zayn has somehow acquired. Harry reckons it’s provided by the resort, though he can’t be entirely sure. There’s already a car seat for Noor in the back, she eagerly climbs into and does the seatbelt up by herself.

Harry hesitates for a moment, wary if he should sit in the back with Noor or take the front seat with Zayn.

“Get in, let’s go,” Zayn encourages, opening the passenger door for him.

Harry slides in and refuses to admit that he’s blushing. The car is sleek inside; all leather seats and shiny buttons.

Zayn starts the car with ease. The engine rumbles quietly to life and Zayn peeks over his shoulder to watch Noor comb her dolls hair.

“Baba can we play your music?”

Zayn swiftly takes a left, nearly hitting a pedestrian in his haste to exit the premises. “Not right now.”

“But why?”

Zayn blushes on the tops of his cheeks, a rosy pink dusting the tanned skin. There are still people milling about as Zayn slowly inches the vehicle forwards. “Harry doesn’t want to listen to that.”

“I do,” Harry says, cheeky grin on his face.

“I don’t have a CD.”

Harry opens the center console, already pulling the AUX cord out. “It’s 2018 Zayn, these cars are equipped for this.”

“I-”

“Noor,” Harry turns around, flashing a conspiring smile with the girl in the backseat, “do you want to listen to baba’s music?”

“Yeah!” Noor throws her arms up in the air sending the doll flying into the opposite window.

“You heard the lady.”

Zayn is hilarious to watch while his music plays. He shifts uncomfortably when Harry finally hooks Zayn’s phone up to the sound system and his fingers stay clenched around the steering wheel.

It’s on shuffle, though Harry recognizes it as one of his early songs.

“Change it,” he moans, rolling his eyes.

“Now, now. Noor wants to hear this music, don’t you angel?”

Noor nods and kicks her feet up, too consumed in lip-syncing to properly give Harry a response.

Harry tries to hum along, picking out the couple of words that seem to repeat themselves.

“This song is horrible.”

“S’good,” Harry counters just to watch Zayn shift in his seat. His eyes don’t come off the road.

It’s not for directional purposes. There is only one road that runs around Anguilla and Harry’s taken it a fair few times. He knows how to get everywhere on the island from explaining it to tourists and driving in to get groceries with Liam. It’s usually in a shitty little car that Liam or Harry bum off someone or goading the front desk into letting them take the grocery van. He’s never been in the passenger seat of a sleek car with an international recording artist and said artist’s child singing in the background.

“Relax alright. It’s an hour to get to the lookout point at the top of the island.”

“Great,” Zayn grunts with a roll of his eyes. It does get better after that though.

Zayn relaxes his grip on the steering wheel and lets an arm hang out the window as they cruise. He sings along sometimes, so quiet that Harry has to strain to hear him over the sound of Noor singing off key and the bass thumping to the beat. The lyrics are risqué like Harry remembers, and Harry’s fairly certain that Noor doesn’t pick up on the meaning behind them. She sings along like Harry sang to Cell Block Tango even after his mum went berserk on his babysitter for letting him and Gemma watch Chicago.

Captains Bay is as beautiful as Harry remembers it being three months ago. It’s hard to believe that it’s been that long since he dragged Liam to hang at the beach. The sand is white and the water a clear blue. Noor strips off her dress and runs towards the ocean before Harry gets a chance to set down their minimal belongings.

Zayn shouts for her to come back which means that Harry’s the one who has to chase after her. He leaves his shirt by his flip flops and catches up to Noor with ease. He lifts her up and upside down just before they hit the water, her legs kicking enthusiastically.

“Let me down!” She demands, pinching Harry’s thigh.

Harry cries out and lets Noor land on her feet. “Don’t run off again,” Harry tells her. “You scared baba.”

Noor doesn’t respond and chooses to sit in the water instead. The water barely covers her bent knees and the slow waves hardly brush up to her stomach. Harry sits beside her and leans back on his hands with Noor mirroring his position.

They watch the water move, the sun sitting high in the cloudless sky. It’s picturesque. Something Harry would only have seen on a postcard or Google Maps had they not come here. He wants to take a multitude of pictures to capture the beauty; something to prove that this is real and exists and to capture the weightlessness he feels looking out towards the endless ocean.

“Hey!” Zayn shouts, startling Harry. “Turn around.”

Zayn’s shirtless when Harry does look. His black swim shorts hang low on his waist and the tattoos on his bronze skin look even more pronounced when the sun hits it. He has lithe muscles and a slim build, a slim waist that’s drawn in from his shoulders. Zayn looks much different than he had in the pictures Harry has seen online. He looks much, much better than any of the pictures of Zayn partying on a boat or drunkenly taking his top off in a bar. Harry’s dick thickens in his shorts against his best intentions. It’s just – it’s just that the morning wank got the best of him and now his dick is confused by whom he finds arousing. That’s it. Harry blinks a couple of times when the waves splash at his feet.

“You’ve got to smile Harry,” Zayn tells him. It takes a couple more blinks before Harry notices the iPhone Zayn’s got aimed at them.

Harry smiles on command, blushing from being caught. His cheeks feel hot and he knows there must be a picture catching him checking Zayn out. Zayn’s still smirking when he lowers the phone and tosses it into his bag.

Harry deliberately turns back to watch Noor draw shapes in the sand and ignores the stare burning into the back of his head.

\---

Although Noor had thrown a strop leaving the beach, Harry chalks it up to hunger. They stop off at a tiny diner a couple kilometers south of the bay. Zayn looks like a spooked cat as he hunches his shoulders and scans the restaurant. There are a few couples scattered throughout the diner, but no one stares at them for too long.

“Relax,” Harry says, patting Zayn’s arm as he passes.

The diner is small and homey. Harry doesn’t remember coming here, though the name sounds familiar with how often Niall talks about it. Mint green wallpaper is peeling off the walls and the rectangular panelling around the bottom of the walls is scuffed. The chairs are mismatched as are the table clothes and Harry wonders how long they’ve had both.

It reminds him of an American 60’s themed diner he went to on a date in third year. The colour scheme was classic red and white checkers with squeaky booths and metallic tables. Pictures of Elvis and other American stars were hung up on the wall alongside neon signs. Harry and his date split a milkshake and Harry got a cheeseburger and chips with extra ketchup. They snogged in the car, but it didn’t go anywhere else. His date was nice, but unmemorable. There wasn’t a five-year-old enthusiastically telling him the menu nor was there a warm smile from a famous man across the table from him.

Noor loudly announces that she’s going to order a cheese toastie with sweet potato chips. Harry indulges in a chicken wrap, complete with lettuce, tomato, and bacon bits and watches Zayn chow down on a chicken strips and chips. They catch each other’s eye; a grin shared half hidden by lunch.

When they head back to the car, it’s early afternoon. They keep driving around the island, taking trails off the main highway to get out of the car and look at the island. Noor still runs up to the water with flapping arms and a loud laugh, sand kicked up by her tiny feet. She doesn’t go in the water like she earlier had though. She dips in her feet and stares at the clear water.

Harry takes a couple of pictures of Zayn and Noor goofing around. He gets a good one of Zayn tossing her in the air, the sun just below her feet and a smile lighting up Zayn’s face. His hair has grown longer than it was when Harry first met him, shaved at the sides and grown in at the top. He’s allowed his facial hair to grow and it sweeps around his impeccable jawline.

“Looks good,” Harry murmurs, steadfastly not paying attention to the jump of his heartrate when their fingers brush.

“Wicked,” Zayn agrees.

“Let me see!”

“Two hands Noor. No smudges.” Zayn hands her the cellphone gingerly, still keeping a grip on the top of it as she gets thumb prints all over the screen.

“Wicked,” she smiles, lighting up even more when Zayn musses up her hair. “Can I take one please?”

“A selfie?”

Noor scowls at Harry. “No of you and baba.”

“Uh-” Harry rubs his slick palms together.

“C’mere babes,” Zayn laughs. He wraps an arm around Harry to jostle him.

Zayn looks young so young in this light, as though he hasn’t dealt with eight years in a cutthroat industry that’s left him jaded. He doesn’t look like he’s been hounded by producers and label executives to finish a song by the end of the summer. He looks like a normal lad on the beach enjoying time with his daughter.

“Harry you didn’t smile,” Noor scolds. She looks adorable when she’s disgruntled. Harry wants to reach out and tug her nose just because he knows it gets a reaction out of her.

“You didn’t count to three! Try again, maybe I’ll smile.”

“You better,” she warns before softly counting, “One, two, three, smile!”

Zayn presses his hand firm to Harry’s bicep until they’re so close that their shoulders touch. Harry stretches his lips wide and focuses on Noor’s concentrated face as if clicking a button is the most commanding task she’s ever had to do.

“Wicked,” Noor repeats when she looks at the photo. She hands the camera back to Zayn and there’s smudges on the screen from her dirty fingertips.

“Looks good t’me.”

Harry peaks around Zayn’s shoulder and glances at it.

They look good together. Harry’s frame is definitely larger than Zayn’s, but they look like they fit with Zayn’s crinkled smile and Harry’s broad grin. Harry’s hands are clasped in front of him yet it doesn’t look standoffish. He’s leaning into Zayn and their heads are tilted together and – yeah. They look good together.

“Baba can we get ice cream?” Noor asks, scrubbing her eyes.

“Don’t get sand in your eyes, jaan. Maybe you can ask Harry nicely if he knows anywhere we can go.”

Noor blinks up at Harry with her most convincing puppy dog plea. “Yeah, I know a place.”

\---

It’s an absolute disaster. Noor’s mint chocolate chip is dripping all down her fingers and getting her shirt all sticky. No matter how many napkins Harry wads up and dabs at her shirt with, she somehow manages to get it on another spot. Then another.

“Noor, for goodness sake,” Harry says exasperated. Noor giggles and tries to cover it up with her hand. It goes horribly wrong. Melted ice cream and chocolate chunks fall into her lap and she cackles manically. “You’re a menace.”

“You’ve got more on your lap than in your tummy,” Zayn says around a lick of his chocolate cone. Harry’s been trying very hard not to watch Zayn’s pink tongue dart out to lick his ice cream.

“I’m trying to bite it, but it’s too cold.”

“You don’t bite your ice cream, goofball.” Harry stares at his mango coconut sorbet. “You’ve got to get all the bottom part.” He twirls his cone with ease. His tongue runs half on the cone and half on the sorbet. “See? You get all the little drippings.”

Noor tries, but she’s not fast enough.

“Quicker Noor, you can do it.”

Noor’s eyebrows pull in. A determined look overtakes her features as she nods like a soldier preparing for battle. Noor spins it and collects most, but it still wobbles.

“One more time. Watch.” Harry’s spin is off center. Sorbet still sticks to his tongue and he runs it over the top to get the melty bits. “S’like tag with the ice cream. Right Zayn?”

“Yeah.” Zayn’s wearing a dumb smirk again. It’s – Harry realizes what he must have looked like licking the ice cream now. He wills the flush overtaking his cheeks and chest to fuck off. Zayn’s eyes are caught on Harry’s lips and without his permission – Harry’s very adamant that it is without his permission – his tongue darts out to lick the little bit of sorbet caught on the bottom of his lip.

“Harry your ice cream’s dripping.”

Harry jerks, catching the way mango coconut dribbles down his knuckles. Harry turns an even greater shade of red this time. “Thanks Noor,” he says, pointedly ignoring Zayn’s chuckling on the other side of the table.

\---

It’s much later when they get back. Harry hadn’t anticipated Noor’s sense of adventure that led them to visiting another look out point farther north. She had taken a few more pictures of Zayn and Harry pressed in close and convinced one of the tourists taking pictures of her children to take a picture of the three of them with the sunset in the background. Noor is asleep on Zayn’s shoulder as they walk up to the suite. Harry doesn’t say anything as he follows the pair. The scent of sun cream is still prominent on his skin; his hair is messier than when they left.

“You should stay,” Zayn suggests, lying Noor down on the couch.

Harry toes out of his shoes, not even hesitating for a moment.

“For dinner I mean. Noor’s probably going to be hungry when she wakes up and I would hate for you to have to go home and cook after the long day we’ve had.”

“Cheers, yeah.” Harry dumps himself onto the breakfast stool. The soles of his feet ache from the extensive walking. His shoulder feel a tad burnt, though thinking about how it will even out into a nice tan is a pleasant thought. “So what’d you think of the island?”

“It’s smaller than I thought it was, but also… not? Like there’s a lot of places to go and look at and I like the trees.” Zayn disappears into his room and emerges with a couple of cold beers in his hand. “I don’t like – I don’t sit around and drink by myself.”

“I believe you,” Harry tells him and realizes that he does. The image of Zayn getting smashed in his room alone is long gone after seeing the way Zayn fondly interacts with Noor.

“The island was sick though. When I tour I never get a chance to like, drive around and explore. Noor doesn’t either and I think that’s why she likes going outside so much.” Zayn twists the caps off the beer and hands one to Harry. Zayn takes the chair next to him and swivels until they’re facing each other until their knees are touching and Harry can feel the hair there brushing against Zayn’s.

“It was fun though. I had a great time. I haven’t done that since,” Harry thinks back. He went with a tourist a couple of months ago when they were shagging during his weeklong stay. “A while,” he settles on.

Zayn hums. They drink their beer as they look at the room service menu. Zayn rings them up while Harry prays that Niall isn’t working tonight. He doesn’t even know his schedule for the week. Christ, he needs to text him about it soon.

“So,” Zayn starts, bringing back four beers this time and placing them in the center of the table. “Why’d you come to Anguilla? You’re from up North?”

“North west,” Harry corrects. “Cheshire. This tiny village called Holmes Chapel.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Harry says not unkindly. “I guess I just…” he has his standard answer. That he wanted to travel before going home, starting a full time job and being a proper adult. That the island seemed beautiful and he loves the people, but misses home dearly and calls his mother once a week. Zayn makes him want to tell the truth though. “I have a degree in computer science. It was… it’s a degree and I’m glad I have it, but I want more. I don’t want to spend the next forty years of my life in a suit working for the man and being miserable when I come home to a family, y’know.” There are only a handful of people Harry’s told this to and that’s usually after more than just a single beer thrumming in his veins. “I saw a flyer for this work exchange program in the student services building and I applied. I didn’t even tell my mum until a month before then I was off before I graduated.”

“No, I get it.” Zayn squeezes Harry’s fingers. They’re cold from being wrapped around the beer. “I didn’t even want to go to my audition for X Factor. I wanted to go back to sleep, but my mum hauled my arse out of bed and drove for ages until we were there. I was exceeding in my uni classes, I was taking English, but I just – there was something under my skin telling me that this can’t be it. I can’t just go to school for a couple of years then settle on a career because that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

Zayn smiles and taps his fingers against Harry’s knuckles. He’s doing it in perfect time to Harry’s thumping heart. He leans in a bit and whether it’s to tell Harry something more private or to kiss him – God Harry doesn’t know.

He does know that Zayn has a freckle in his eye and long thick eyelashes. He knows that Zayn’s biting his lip as he comes closer, that the bottom of his teeth are a bit uneven and that his stubble looks much, much more enticing this close. He knows that Noor is asleep on the couch and that this could be something bigger than just a babysitting gig Ed got him stuck in, but –

The doorbell goes.

Harry and Zayn startle back, Zayn’s fingers untwining from Harry’s. It’s like watching a movie, an out of body experience, as Zayn walks to the door. He’s still in his tank top and his shoulder blades become more pronounced when he reaches for the door.

Harry barely knows the girl that wheels their cart in the room, but he gives her a polite smile and little wave. She blushes as Zayn tells her to add the bill to his room.

The scent of the spaghetti is heavenly; fresh tomatoes and basil makes Harry’s mouth water. There are four chunks of garlic bread on a plate between them and Harry doesn’t hesitate to scoops up the sauce with a piece of it.

“Do you honestly always eat like that?” Zayn asks. There’s marinara at the corner of his lips.

“Like what?”

“With your tongue out and shit.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harry shrugs unperturbed. He shifts his concentration on swirling the pasta with as much finesse as he can. It’s a wobbly chunk that probably won’t fit in his mouth. Still he goes for it and catches Zayn’s eye just as he’s about to pull the fork out.

“I thought that was just at the restaurant to make Noor laugh, but mate that’s disgusting.”

Harry immediately regrets the honking laugh he lets out. He chokes around the food in his mouth and his eyes start to water. His face heats with embarrassment as he chews and swallows and steadfastly doesn’t look at Zayn.

“You made me self-conscious. And you don’t eat so nicely either.”

“I do so,” Zayn argues, picking up his napkin and dabbing his mouth. He flashes Harry a blinding smile of white teeth and bubble gum lips.

“You have a little something-” Harry gestures to his cheek where a freckle rests. There’s not a spot of anything on his smooth skin as Zayn wipes at it with his napkin. “Little over,” Harry gestures, biting hard on his lip at the confused look on Zayn’s face. “Little up, yeah.” Zayn’s eyebrows are drawn in, lip curling into confusion as he wipes at nothing. “Well, almost. Here.” Harry squeezes Zayn’s nose cackling when Zayn makes an indignant face.

“Ow! You got my bloody nose ring,” Zayn shrieks.

Harry gasps and hops off his chair. He leans in close to ensure there’s no blood, but just as he’s about to start profusely apologizing, Zayn begins to laugh at him now.

“That wasn’t funny,” Harry pouts. He climbs back into his chair and crosses his arms.

“S’not so funny when it’s you, hey?”

“You’re a dick.” Harry slugs Zayn in the arm.

Zayn’s eyes are lit up like he just pulled the most brilliant prank on the MI5. The kitchen lights dance across Zayn’s face in a way that makes him seem paler. He still glows though, a radiance that extends out his smile and his eyes and every pore of his body. He’s far from the villain Harry had painted him out to be.

“Noor’s sleeping like a log.”

“Gets it from me,” Zayn confesses with teeth worrying his lip. “I’m horrible on the road. For my third album we tried to record it while I was on the road and it was miserable. They’d wake me up at three or four in the morning just to record a riff in the back of the bus.”

“How’d they do that?”

“They put mattresses and stuff in the back of the bus and in hotels sometimes. Sometimes the sounds are good, but I didn’t put a lot of effort into the writing so it didn’t feel very me.”

“Yeah? Which album of yours is your favourite?”

Zayn pushes his half-finished plate away. His garlic bread has a few bites taken out of it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that y’know.”

“Really? But you do interviews right?”

“You been watching them?”

Harry blushes fiercely and refuses to acknowledge it. “No. Just – you’re famous or whatever, don’t you have to?”

“Yeah… but they ask shit questions.” Zayn scratches the beginnings of his beard. “S’like, they don’t care about my music or me. They care about who I’m seeing, who I’m fucking… what I think of my ex’s new boyfriend. They don’t care about like, me, y’know? It’s so superficial.”

“Do they ask about Noor?”

“They used to but I keep her out of the spotlight. Her mum would take her out shopping and bring her to her shoots and I didn’t like it.”

Harry nods and fiddles with the rings on his finger. They’ve gone clammy and his rings slide around his fingers easily.

“But like… I don’t know. I considered calling it quits after my sixth album, but I still made one after. Like, I’ve been in it for eight years, making an album every year and it’s just expected of me. I’m better at maintaining my privacy, but everyone wants a piece.” Zayn scrubs a hand over his face looking so tired and _young_ that Harry doesn’t know what to do. “It’s been nine months since I put something out and I’m usually halfway done an album by now, but I want this to be about me. The media’s saying people are sick of my sound and even _I’m_ sick of my sound which is why I need a change. I just want to be the real me for once or something.”

“I think…” Harry starts, losing the words when he captures Zayn’s attention. “Whenever you’re in an industry where you’re constantly put in the spotlight, you’re bound to come off differently than you really are. Whether it’s a façade that you’re putting on, or a bad day that you’re having, the media thrives off exploiting weaknesses and making celebrities look bad. I think, underneath whatever light the media has painted you in, you’re much more genuine and real than you appear, and I think more people need to see that.”

Zayn doesn’t respond and there’s a suspended moment where Harry thinks he’s stepped over a line. Zayn’s face is inches away from Harry’s and he’s just staring at Harry with an inexplicable look on his face. Harry’s about to apologize, trip over words like ‘inappropriate’ and ‘work relationship’ until Zayn leans in and presses his lips against Harry’s in a dry kiss. He doesn’t get rough with it and hold onto Harry’s neck. He doesn’t crowd Harry into the counter and coax the oxygen out of Harry’s mouth.

No, he just gets off his stool and moves like the smooth waves they’ve stared at all day until they’re properly kissing.

He pulls back too soon for Harry’s liking. It’s been ages since he’s kissed someone he’s interested in. Fuck, he’s actually interested in Zayn. There’s no denying it now. He loses himself in the smooth slide of Zayn’s tongue, the careful way he’s holding Harry’s face as though it’s made of porcelain. They taste like tomatoes and thyme and garlic and just a hint of beer. Harry’s still sitting on the stool, but Zayn’s slotted between his knees like he was made to fit there.

When they pull away Harry’s lips are dry and his lungs empty. His eyes are wide and darting all over the room. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to act after that.

“I should… um,” he fumbles over the words. He points to the door and then scratches the back of his neck.

“Should I wake Noor up before you do?” Zayn asks, still pressed in close.

“No, that’s alright. I’ll just – I’ll see her tomorrow.”

Caught off guard for the second time that night, Zayn goes in for a second kiss. It’s fleeting, barely anything more than a brush of lips and noses. If Harry wasn’t sitting he’s sure his knees would give out and he’d be swooning. It’s so intimate in the quiet of the kitchen that when Harry walks down the corridor he can still hear Zayn’s panting in his head.

\---

Noor’s pouting when Harry tiptoes into the suite the next morning.

He had spent the better part of an hour pacing around his room and wondering if he should wake Liam up to gush about his kiss with Zayn and he’s feeling the exhaustion weigh heavy on his bones. Noor gives him an uncharacteristically long hug when he pads across the floor in socked feet.

“Everything alright sunshine?”

“I tried to wake baba up with kisses, but he said he wasn’t feeling good.”

Zayn’s bedroom door is closed, no light streaming through. He wonders belatedly if he should have texted Zayn when he got home or when he was on his way over. There was ample opportunity while Harry was having his midnight freak out but –

“Maybe we can make baba a card?”

Noor scrambles off to get her craft box. Her socked feet make no sound as she putters to and from her bedroom. Harry folds himself up by the coffee table and lets Noor take all the pens and paper out.

“Did you have fun yesterday?”

“Mhmm.” The tip of Noor’s tongue is poised between her lips as she focuses on setting everything up perfectly. “I had sand in my bathing bottoms when I woke up and baba had to give me a bath.”

“You did?” Harry asks, tickling her sides. Noor squirms before batting him away.

She’s all business from there. Drawing a massive picture and shielding Harry from it whenever he tries to sneak a peek. He makes his own card with black loops and swirls then colours it in slowly with bright pink and neon blue. Any colour he can get his hands on he uses in some way and it’s a mess of colour and sloppy lines.

Harry makes cheese and tomato toasties for lunch and persuades Noor to eat apple slices and half a banana. He cooks his toastie slower in the hopes that Zayn will come out at the smell. It does nothing other than unsettle his stomach – he tries not to think about it.

Instead he focuses on Noor and not some tiny meaningless kiss. It’s just been a while since someone’s shown interest in Harry. It has absolutely nothing to do with Zayn’s smirk of a smile and smouldering eyes. It doesn’t have to do with the way his skin felt under Harry’s palm or the way their lips moved together. It’s not at all about the way that the last kiss Zayn pressed to his lips replayed over and over before he finally fell asleep.

It’s absolutely nothing.

\---

Harry changes into a worn pair of cut off sweatpants and a baggy top when he gets back from work. The sun is bright and shining as he entertains the idea of going to the pool for the rest of the day.

He taps his toe as he wees; the stack of men’s health magazines on the toilet tank has accumulated rapidly since the last time he consciously looked at it. He’s debating whether or not to see if Liam’s home when he hears sniffling on the other side of Liam’s bedroom door.

“Li,” Harry calls, knocking on the door just once.

“M’alright,” Liam responds, but it’s wet. It sounds like he hiccups on the other end, but Harry can’t be sure.

“Everything alright?”

“Um, course.”

Harry waits for anything more. When it doesn’t come he tries the door handle and sees that it’s unlocked. “Can I come in?”

Harry enters when Liam doesn’t respond and sees that he’s got his face stuffed into a pillow and his phone beside his head. “Li,” Harry sighs. He works his fingers into the tight muscles between Liam’s shoulder blades.

“I heard you crying. I-” Harry doesn’t know what to say. “Want to talk about it?”

“Oh it’s not – it’s not like that at all. Nic’s engaged, my oldest sister.” Liam sits up properly and lets the sheets fall down his chest. His light blue shirt is rumpled.

“Nicola? The one who had the messy divorce?”

Liam winces but nods. “She’s got a new boyfriend. They met on some dating site a few months back, but apparently it’s love or summat. They’re getting married the day after I get back.”

“That’s great Liam! You’d look sick in a tux.”

Liam just laughs, wrapping both arms around Harry’s neck to drag him into a hug. “Yeah? I’m so excited. I can’t believe I’m home in two months.”

“I know.” Harry shoves at Liam until he’s trapped between Harry and the wall. “S’gone by fast.”

“It has.” Harry tries not to think about how difficult it will be to lose Liam and Noor in the same month, probably the same week. “You’ll come back to England though, right? Come visit me and the missus.”

“‘Course. I can’t steal your girl if I never meet her.”

Liam lands a weak punch square on Harry’s bicep. “Shut up.”

“M’just saying mate. She’s a – ow, Jesus. I was just kidding.”

“You’re such an idiot. Get out of my bed.”

Harry tweaks Liam’s nipple in response.

\---

Zayn stumbles into the suite at half past two with a water bottle in his hand and his gym kit on. Sweat makes his white shirt stick to his chest and his tattoos visible. Harry’s fingers twitch to correct the floppy mess of hair on Zayn’s head, but he settles it by grabbing Noor’s hand instead and spinning her around. Zayn takes one look at Harry and Noor with their music on blast and twisting and dancing together before he claps his hands.

“Alright?” Zayn asks, quirking a brow. Harry flushes, dropping his eyes to Noor whose face is just as flush as his.

They mutually agreed to tie their hair up before they started their dance party and Harry’s thankful for the way it cools him down.

“Yeah. Feeling better?” Harry challenges.

“Loads.” Zayn turns his back to Harry before bending down to untie his sneakers and it’s – it’s completely unnecessary for him to show off his arse in that way. It’s completely unfair for him to let the mesh tighten across his arse and accentuate the small curve of it and how narrow his hips are and tease Harry with how bad he wants to sink his teeth into Zayn’s thighs.

Harry averts his eyes when Zayn straightens. He’s hot under the collar and his cock, the traitor, is nearly half hard. It’s inappropriate and wrong with Noor sitting so close to him when he hasn’t even talked to Zayn since the mysterious illness that held him captive in his room for two days.

“Lift again!” Noor demands. She raises her arms above her head in the signature way Harry taught her. She’s straight as a ramrod. “Baba, watch this!”

Harry lifts Noor like Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing. Noor doesn’t kick her feet or noodle her arms like she had the first few times they’d done this. Harry doesn’t dodge a knee or fear that Noor’s going to pee on him from laughing so hard.

“Wow,” Zayn says, impressed. Harry puts Noor down and brushes his hands together, high-fiving her for a job well done.

“Could see if I can lift you.”

Zayn’s eyes sweep Harry’s body with a flourish before he shakes his head. “Don’t dance.”

“Oh come on,” Harry goads. “Everyone dances.”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t you dance on X Factor? You did that dance routine, when Simon had to drag your scrawny arse out to the stage before you quit.”

“Harry, that’s a bad word,” Noor gasps, covering her ears.

They don’t address it though. Zayn steps closer until he’s on the same carpeted area that once had the couch and various toys scattered about. Now, the tables pushed to the side in order to adhere to their dance party.

“Come dance with us.”

“No thanks,” Zayn shakes his head. He’s already moving his hips a bit in time with the music.

“Noor, do you think we can get baba to dance with us?” Harry asks shaking his hips and bending his knees in some form of a twist.

“M’not dancing to this.”

“Baba, dance! Dance!” Noor twirls around Zayn. Her arms go up above her head as she nearly topples over.

“Who are we even listening to?”

“Austin Mahone!”

“Noor, I don’t know who that is.”

“Oh, you so do,” Harry teases. He wiggles close to Zayn before crab walking in a circle by himself.

“You’re so embarrassing,” Zayn snorts, blinking his eyes shut.

“Dance with us Zayn, come on!” Harry grabs Zayn’s wrist to toss it in the air. When Zayn’s arm falls down like dead weight, Harry does it to the other one. Zayn squints at Harry as he does it again and again until he just grabs Zayn’s wrists and rocks them up and down. He shakes his own hips when it’s clear that Zayn’s not going to actively participate in that aspect.

“Baba’s a pretty good dancer, eh Noor?”

“The best!” Noor climbs onto the couch and star jumps off it.

Harry lets go, but it’s Zayn who grabs Harry by the wrist this time and spins him. A laugh bursts out of him at the unexpected gesture. He spins and watches the walls blur together before Zayn’s catching him by the hips.

Their faces are so close that Harry wonders how easily it would be to lean in and steal his lips for another kiss. It feels like ages since they were pressed close and Zayn’s palm was cradling his jaw, coaxing his tongue into Harry’s mouth and ensuring that he was the last thing on Harry’s mind before he went to sleep.

Well – that had been occurring fairly frequently even before they kissed if Harry’s being honest. 

Harry keeps lifting and whirling Noor through the air. Her laugh is infectious. It’s like cotton candy ice cream on a sunny day at the beach with Anne and Gem. It’s like Christmas morning when Des was still an active dad in Harry’s life and he bought him a trainset with a remote control. It’s like the first day of university when Harry felt like he truly belonged somewhere. Harry feels light and airy and fucking untouchable.

The music changes to a new artist that Harry has never heard of, but Noor shrieks the lyrics and flips her head like a rock star. Her and Zayn do the air guitar while Harry pretends to play the drums on Noor’s head and it’s so ridiculous and carefree that Harry doesn’t even notice Zayn watching him until he hears the shutter of a camera.

“Put that away,” Harry tells Zayn, hoisting Noor up to spin her around. Zayn doesn’t follow his order and takes a few more pictures of them instead.

Zayn tosses his phone onto the couch then waves his arms about like some flimsy robot. It’s horrendous.

Harry snorts while he laughs and he’s confident its completely unattractive.

“Baba you dance so silly!”

Zayn sticks his tongue out at Noor and tickles her ribs.“M’a great dancer.” He says, enunciating in a thick Bradford accent. “Look at me go!”

Noor keeps on giggling, keeps on dancing like the carefree little girl she is. Her eyes are clear and happy; her lips a sugary pink from biting and licking them all day. Her hair is becoming a bit of a mess from the flapping about. It’s another ten minutes of extensive dancing and breathless giggling before they call it quits.

“Stay for supper?” Zayn asks with his hand closing around Harry’s hip.

\---

Supper involves Harry making stir fry with a glass of smooth red wine while Noor reads Zayn a story. That turns into a movie with more red wine and buttery popcorn which turns into Noor falling asleep with her head in Harry’s lap and her feet on one of Zayn’s thighs. She’s snoozing, making soft snoring sounds every couple of seconds as Tony Stark saves the city. The movie’s long and bloody boring and Harry’s never been much into super heroes. He’s watched this movie twice before with Liam. Hell, he’s probably seen every bloody superhero movie that there is to watch with Liam including all the old and new Spiderman’s.

So he stares at Zayn’s face instead. He watches the way the explosions from the screen light up Zayn’s face; soft golds and bright reds, glowing oranges and instances of blackness.

“Stop staring at me and watch the film.” Zayn doesn’t take his eyes off the television.

He scrubs his beard with the back of his hands. Harry’s lips twitch with the urge to feel it beneath his lips. The last time Harry kissed someone with even a hint of a beard it left little scratches around his lips, the side of his neck, the inside of his thighs and God, he has to shift Noor in his lap from the way his dick twitches.

Harry tries an old trick that used to work on all the birds and lads in secondary. He leans on his elbow, getting nice and close to Zayn and asking, “What’s going on?”

It has the desired effect of Zayn moving closer. “Shut up.”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes. “M’bored.” Harry flicks his eyes down to Zayn’s lips then lets them drag back up. He’s not drunk by any means, but he’s wanted some time alone with Zayn all day and with Noor asleep in his lap that seems to be the only way it’s going to happen.

Harry takes a long sip of his red wine, draining the glass even though he doesn’t really want to drink the wine because of the way it elongates his neck.

“Should put her to bed then, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Harry grunts. He has the decency to wait for Zayn to leave the room before adjusting himself.

Harry turns the volume on the television lower and tugs his shirt collar lower just in time for Zayn to saunter back in. He sits a hair closer to Harry and throws an arm around the back of the armrest, not quite touching Harry.

Harry counts to twenty. Then he counts again in Spanish. He glances at Zayn then down at his lap. It would take half a second to straddle his thin hips and grind down, sear their lips together and muss Zayn’s hair up.

“Pay attention.”

“I am,” Harry grins. He feels around the leather couch behind his head until he grips Zayn’s hand. He forces Zayn’s arm around his shoulder then tips over until he’s resting against Zayn.

“Smooth,” Zayn muses.

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to the underside of Zayn’s jaw and Christ, his hair is thick and prickly and Harry presses another kiss then another until Zayn turns his head and they’re properly snogging.

“M’trying to watch the movie,” Zayn argues. It’s a moot point with the way he pushes Harry back until he’s lying down. He spreads his legs, left sole of his foot flat on the ground so he can grind up when he needs to.

“God,” Harry sighs wistfully. He fits his hands in the back of Zayn’s shirt. It’s soft and worn beneath Harry’s hand and Zayn smells so, so good after he had snuck off to take a shower after their dance party.

Zayn kisses better than Harry remembers. It’s not shy and gentle like it had been in the kitchen. It’s not two people learning the feel of each other with careful hands and soothing licks like first snogs usually are. No, this is rough and eager and Zayn nips at Harry’s lip as he drags himself farther away. Harry pushes up to meet him, wrapping his hands around Zayn’s neck to pull him back down.

Harry swallows the small laugh Zayn hiccups. Zayn’s kisses taste like wine and butter. He’s unrelenting when he turns his head to scrape his beard against Harry’s skin and it’s –

Harry shifts his hips to get closer to Zayn while kissing him open mouthed and determined. He bites on Harry’s lips some more and flicks his slick tongue over Harry’s teeth. His lips are soft, plumping under the assault of Harry’s teeth and tongue. Harry doesn’t let himself snog his hookups for very long and he’s missed the easy way in which he’s kissed someone.

There’s no intent behind their kisses other than to feel and touch and kiss. It’s innocent in the filthiest of ways and he’s helpless but to grapple for more of Zayn’s shirt, his hips, and his lips. Zayn edges back like he wants Harry to take control and he does.

He rises to the challenge and kisses down Zayn’s throat though the angle is awkward.

Harry bites and sucks on Zayn’s neck and inhales the citrus of his body wash. “Smell so good,” Harry huffs, digging his fingernails into Zayn’s shoulder blades. “God Zayn.”

“Calm down, it’s just a kiss.”

“Fuck you,” Harry huffs, dropping his head onto the couch below. He doesn’t have time to overthink it before Zayn’s dipping down to suck on Harry’s jaw, his neck. “Fuck.”

“You’re so easy for it,” Zayn laughs.

Harry can’t do much other than thump Zayn weakly on the back. He wraps a leg around Zayn’s knees and lifts his hips so Zayn gets a chance to feel how hard Harry is. Judging by the bulge pushing back at him, he’s just as affected.

Their words are replaced by sweet moans. They chase tongues and lips and any skin they can reach. Zayn rolls his hips down and Harry has to pull away, will himself not to get too excited too soon. This could lead nowhere or it could lead somewhere and judging by the way Zayn presses his thumb into the corner of Harry’s lips, it’s going somewhere.

“Hi,” Harry whispers. His throat is raspy, lips spit slick. He licks them, collecting the taste of Zayn.

“Vas happenin’ babes.”

“You’re a dork,” Harry giggles. He hides his face in Zayn’s neck and waits until his breathing has evened out. He wants to trace every possible pathway along Zayn’s skin with his fingers then his tongue, maybe even the head of his dick as he leaks across Zayn’s skin and paints it like a roadmap.

“You’re so hard.”

Harry squawks, offended. “You’re not supposed to point it out.”

“Why not? I can help you,” Zayn nudges the tip of his nose into Harry’s cheekbone. “Give you a hand.”

“Shut up. You’re the worst.”

“Next time?” Zayn asks and –

“Yeah.” Harry kisses the corner of Zayn’s lips. Then square on the mouth. Zayn rolls them a bit so he’s fitted between the back of the couch and Harry. “M’gonna fall off the couch.”

“I’d offer to move us to my bed, but,” he kisses Harry until he’s lightheaded and drowsy. “Next time, yeah?”

It sounds like a goodbye so Harry reaches down to adjust himself. And if Zayn’s eyes dip and his Adam’s apple bobs, well then that’s just an added bonus. “Text me when you get home alright?”

Harry texts Zayn when he’s home, and then proceeds to strip down and tug himself off in the shower, coming faster than he ever has.

He waits until he’s raked hair cream through the ends of his hair and patted it dry before snuggling into bed arse naked. He plugs his phone into the charger and smiles when he sees that Zayn’s sent him a message.

Harry nearly drops his phone, cock filling up when a selfie of Zayn, shirtless and fucking glowing comes up. Harry has no idea how his dick manages to find interest with the thorough wank he performed in the shower, but it does. ‘ _No fair_ ’ Harry sends with a frowning emoji. It doesn’t do his mood justice so he sends another of the angry red emoji as well.

‘Next time’ Zayn sends him with the cross eyed, tongue out emoji. It’s ridiculous and annoying and Harry wants to press the call button and get off with him, but it’s – it’s not like that with them. Yet – Harry tacks on helpfully.

Harry shoves his phone on the nightstand and his face into the pillow. Within a couple of minutes he’ll be blissfully asleep, dreaming of hazel eyes and a smirk of a smile with wet, kiss-pink lips.

\---

Next time doesn’t turn out to be until three days later after a day of fun in the sun with hula hoops and chalk drawings and so many cookies that Harry’s scared Noor’s foregone a sugar buzz and gone straight to sleep.

“Should I be worried that Noor keeps coming back passed out after you spend the day with her?”

“Probably,” Harry laughs, as Zayn rises to his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He carries Noor to her room and takes off her shoes and socks before tucking her into bed. The naps are good for her, Harry’s sure. He reckons he could do with a nap or two for himself these days.

Zayn’s on the balcony smoking when Harry returns and he hangs back. He’s got the jitters now that Zayn’s smoking. He hasn’t seen or smelt it for at least a week now and the fact that he’s doing it after Harry so blatantly kissed him, admittedly ruins his ego.

He doesn’t know what to do with Zayn is the thing. Harry has yet to confide in either Niall or Liam about his feelings for Zayn. Hell, he’s sure they don’t even know that he’s gone from despising to tolerating Zayn. As it is, Harry feels like he’s going out of his mind with his uncertainty. He just wants to know where they stand so he can know whether or not he should go out on the pull tonight and get rid of all this nervous energy.

Zayn doesn’t give him room for second thoughts though. He enters the living room without Harry noticing and pecks him on the cheek. “Don’t think too hard, now.”

Harry half-heartedly tries to hit Zayn in the dick.

“Careful,” Zayn admonishes.

“You’re mean today,” Harry observes.

Zayn laughs around a kiss. His beard is filling out a bit more and he scrapes it along Harry’s jawline before kissing him properly. He tastes of smoke and oranges. Harry finds for the first time in his life that he doesn’t mind the taste of nicotine on his tongue.

“Long day with Noor?”

“Don’t want to talk about that,” Harry giggles, grabbing the collar of Zayn’s shirt to get him closer, always closer.

“Should I be worried?”

Harry shakes his head and cups the nape of Zayn’s neck. They’re both just standing in the living room, kissing and feeling and Harry wants to lay Zayn on a bed and be the one on top this time. He wants to be the one that holds Zayn down and hear him go breathless, feel Zayn’s breath splay across his face and quiet pleas fall from Zayn’s lips.

Harry wants to have the upper hand and make Zayn feel half as heady as he makes Harry feel on a daily basis. He wants to tease and touch and fuck Zayn until he’s a jumbled mess of bones and arteries and sore muscles with come sticking him to the sheets.

He feels a squeeze around his dick then – “You just got so fucking hard.”

“Christ,” Harry laughs. He scrubs a hand over his face then shakes out his hair. “How long do you think Noor will be asleep for?”

“Long enough,” Zayn shrugs. He takes Harry by the hand only to hold him against the wall a moment later.

They fumble their way to Zayn’s bedroom knocking into walls and snickering against each other’s lips. Harry has a half second to take in a grand piano and leather couch, a massive armoire and oak desk pushed into the corner, before he’s flat on his back and staring at the ceiling fan whirring above him.

He slides his top off in a fluid motion that even impresses himself and then manhandles Zayn until Harry’s straddling him.

“You’re so fit,” Zayn says, licking over his bottom lip.

“Want to get my mouth on you,” Harry confesses.

“Yeah? Could let you.”

Harry preens, undoing the fly on Zayn’s shorts until they’re an awkward mess of Zayn taking his top off while trying to squirm out of his shorts. They undress like teenagers and there’s nothing sexy about the way Harry’s ankle gets caught in his jeans and Zayn has to grab his waist to stop him from falling off the bed.

They’re breathless once they’re naked as they take each other in.

Zayn’s more angular than Harry had assumed with sharp hipbones that lead to a nice shaved cock. He’s half hard and the tip’s pink with arousal. Harry traces over the tattoos on Zayn’s hips, the ones on his stomach.

“Wanna take you apart,” Zayn breathes, reaching out.

“Flip over.”

“Thought you were gonna, oh.” Zayn gasps when Harry runs his knuckle down Zayn’s crack.

Everything about Zayn in this position is inviting. From the tattoo on the back of his neck to the way his shoulders are bunched down to the indent of his spine. His arse is arched back and just waiting for Harry to touch. Zayn’s legs are spread and his knees a little bent and Harry doesn’t know where to begin. He wants to take his time while proving to Zayn that this is going to be the best fucking decision of his life.

Harry swallows audibly before kissing the back of Zayn’s neck. He kisses down each notch in Zayn’s boney spine until he reaches the most enticing part.

“Fucking, do something Harry.”

“Patience,” Harry giggles, squeezing Zayn’s arse. Zayn hisses and clenches. His arse goes firm under Harry’s palm and he wonders if all the hours in the gym are spent on trying to get it any bigger.

That can’t be true though because Zayn has strong biceps and a muscular chest and his shoulders are absolutely insane. Harry knows that Zayn does cardio and enlists a trainer to spot him when he does lifts and Harry had never wanted to be a fitness expert until yesterday when Zayn dragged his feet through the door before collapsing on the couch and moaning about how he was never moving again.

The first lick, no, the first taste of Zayn is out of this world. Harry doesn’t do anything showy or over the top to start Zayn off with, but he gasps like it’s the first time he’s ever been touched and it makes Harry wonder if Zayn had time for the amount of sex that Harry had thought Zayn had been having on the road.

“Sensitive?” Harry asks.

“S’been a while,” Zayn whispers into his forearm and shit Harry sinks his teeth into the meat of Zayn’s arse cheek. “Bloody vampire.”

“Want to mark you up,” Harry tells him. “Where no one can see, but you can feel it whenever you sit.”

“Fuck, stop talking.”

It’s a plea that Harry obeys. He points his tongue and licks Zayn out. His thumbs hold Zayn open for better access and Harry licks widely over Zayn’s hole. It’s messy and desperate and once Harry starts he can’t get enough of Zayn’s pink hole fluttering around his tongue like he’s trying to keep him there. The tip of Harry’s thumb edges in until Harry’s licking around it and getting it slick with his spit.

Harry fucks it in and out of Zayn until he’s writhing on the mattress. Harry’s heady with power and want and a primal need to get Zayn to come. He’s conflicted though because he wants to drag it out for as long as possible and make sure that when he goes home for the night all he can think about is this moment in this bed where Zayn couldn’t do anything other than clutch the sheets and murmur Harry’s name like a prayer.

“Close?”

“Fuck.”

“S’not an answer,” Harry whispers into the bottom of Zayn’s spine. “Could do this all night y’know. Could tease you until you’re so close that you cry and wake half the bloody island.”

“Cocky,” Zayn sorts. He twists to look at Harry though and the only word that comes to mind is debauched. “If you get me off you can come on me.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, pinching just under the swell of Zayn’s bum. “Where?”

“Guess,” Zayn moans, pushing himself back onto Harry’s tongue and well… Harry chokes in surprise.

It’s covered by Zayn’s cackle and the blood rushing to his ears. He’s surprised he even has any to spare with the way Harry’s dick jumps and he cups it to squeeze and calm it. He gives himself a mental ‘down boy’ and the opportunity to come on Zayn’s arse, his hole, for Christ’s sake is too intriguing to give up.

Zayn’s hands twist in the sheets when Harry dives down for a second taste. He tastes more like Harry’s spit than he does like skin. He works the tip of his thumb back into Zayn than switches it for a finger. Zayn’s hips push back until he’s away from the bed then he’s –

Oh fuck, Zayn’s wrapping a hand around himself and there’s a few moments where Zayn’s moans are too muffled to be coherent. It’s a mess of moans and creaking bedsprings and Zayn chanting ‘oh fuck,’ as Harry gives in to his dick and finally wraps a hand around himself.. He comes half a minute later all over Zayn’s back and hole.

Manners are long gone as Harry drapes himself over Zayn’s back.

“Don’t even think about kissing me.”

“S’your arsehole.”

“Which means I know exactly what goes on down there.”

“Disgusting,” Harry mumbles. He blinks away the tiredness plaguing his bones to kiss the corner of Zayn’s lips. “M’gonna nap. You should shower, you stink.” Zayn smacks him on the arse and rolls Harry out of the wet spot.

\---

Harry wakes up with sleep clinging to his eyelashes and saliva drying on his chin. The ringing coming from his phone is piercing in the silence of his room and he lazily feels around for it.

“‘Lo?”

“Why the fuck do you sound like you’re just waking up.”

“Hello to you too, Gem.”

“God, I wish I didn’t have to wake up ‘til noon every day,” Gemma teases.

“S’my day off.” Harry checks the time on his phone and yeah, it’s half past twelve. “I work hard.”

Gemma scoffs and Harry can picture the way her face twists as she does so. “You do not. You run around the beach with a five-year-old.”

“She’s fast.” There are conversations with Gemma where Harry feels like he’s drowning. It’s as if nothing he answers is sufficient enough for her and she has to dig and poke and prod to prove that she’s right. It drives Harry mad; Gemma’s blind need to be superior in nearly every aspect. Anne has broken up a hundred squabbles where they both didn’t back down, too stubborn to admit that the other person might be right. “It’s not always easy.”

“Hmm. Well much more exciting than sitting in an office, innit?” Gemma laughs. 

Harry sighs on the other end, burrowing into his pillow. He should probably change the pillowcase at some point. “How was your day?”

“S’good. Did I tell you that Brian and I adopted a cat?”

“Olivia Pope, right?” Harry’s seen pictures of her on Instagram and on kitty play dates with Dusty.

“Yeah. She’s so cute. And um, that’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about.” Silence stretches for eons. Or well, just a few seconds. But it’s enough time for Harry to feel his heartbeat in his ears and his hands go clammy. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“Pregnant, like, Haz there’s a child growing inside of me.”

“Oh my God,” Harry cheers. He can’t control the smile spreading across his face as he rolls over and stares at the ceiling, wide-eyed and both surprised and ecstatic for his sister. “How far along are you?”

“Seven weeks. Its early days, but – Christ! I’ll have a mini-me.”

“Or a mini-Brian,” Harry points out.

But he can see it. He can see a little girl with pin straight brown hair and big green eyes. The classic Styles-dimple etched into her cheek and cotton candy coloured lips. Bossy and sassy like Gemma had been as a young girl, wearing a daisy printed frock and frilly socks. He can picture her playing piano, learning sign language, and helping her mum bake cookies. Everything like Gemma was as a young girl.

“That’s fantastic Gem. You’re alright, right? Have you told mum?”

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first because Brian and I are going up there for the weekend with Olivia.” Gemma sniffles wetly before laughing. Harry can hear the snot clogging her nose and the shaky giggle.

“You have to send me pictures of your stomach every week.”

“I will.”

“And tell me about what you’re eating. You should go to yoga classes and get your prenatal vitamins. Also-”

“I know, I know. I-” Gemma hiccups and Harry brushes at the dampness below his eyes. “I’m so happy, Harry.”

“Good. I’ll have to have a talk with Brian though. You’re not married, Gran’s gonna have a heart attack.”

“Oh God.” That starts Gemma into another round of wet laughter. “I’ll have to tell everyone when I see them at Christmas.”

“Oh you won’t be too big by then.”

“S’five months Harry!” Gemma’s accent always comes out a bit more when she exaggerates her words. “You’ve got to come see me before then.”

“I will.”

“I mean it Harry,” Gemma says and her voice has gone back to sisterly, stern. “You’ve got to come home at some point.”

Harry rolls his eyes. This is the millionth – no – billionth time they’ve talked about this. “My contract ends in three months.”

“And then what? Mum said you told her you didn’t know if you were coming home or staying or what.”

“Gemma-”

“Mum misses you Harry. You can’t just run away-”

“I’m not.”

“Okay,” Gemma sighs.

It’s a standstill; another deadlock without a mediator where Harry feels like he’ll never have the upper hand.

“M’just saying that I miss your ugly mug and I know mum does too.”

There’s an ache in his chest like a ball of fire. It expands with every harsh inhale and shaky exhale. Every word from Gemma is another spark to the ever-growing flames of guilt and intentionally missed phone calls and conversations about his impending return to England.

Harry takes a deep breath and breathes out slow against the pillow. “I know. I’ll be there okay. I promise I’ll be there for Christmas and for the grand celebration.”

\---

It’s comical the way that Harry has to struggle out of his damn skinny jeans with an erection that can probably be seen from space. Or at least, it is to Zayn who has one hand muffling his laughs and another palming himself. It’s an odd combination that turns Harry on nonetheless.

The room is dark, but lit up by the moon in a way that only Anguilla allows. Harry can see all the tattoos on Zayn’s naked body and the urge to lick and bite his skin overweighs his desire to get naked, but –

“Don’t even think of stopping. This is hilarious.”

“It’s supposed to be sensual,” Harry pouts. He tries to swing his hips to the beat that FKA Twigs is singing to; higher than a motherfucker, dreaming of you as my lover.

“Oh it is,” Zayn nods. He reaches a hand out for him, but out of pure spite and determination, Harry doesn’t take it.

“You’re laughing. You’re not supposed to laugh when I try to do a strip tease.”

“To do a strip tease, you know you’ve got to actually get your clothes off, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” Harry whines. He picks a dirty sock off the floor and flings it in Zayn’s direction. Zayn catches it swiftly and tosses it off to the side. Used to bras and knickers and the occasional dildo, Zayn’s dexterity has improved.

“M’just saying, I can help you.”

“Don’t need it,” Harry grunts, finally able to get his jeans over the bump of his knee.

“You still look fucking hot if that’s any consolation.”

“It’s not.”

Zayn’s on his hands and knees. He crawls his way towards Harry before he’s even able to get his jeans past his ankle. “C’mere, let me help you.”

“Don’t need it.”

“You do babes.” Harry bites his lip against the nickname that Zayn’s taken up calling him. He didn’t realize it the first couple of times, but now it sends a hot flush over his body. “C’mere.”

It takes Zayn half a second to loop his finger in the waistband of Harry’s pants and pull him in for a searing kiss. It’s a good one; slow and lazy and just the right amount of noisy.

Zayn’s shoulders are warm under Harry’s hands. His skin is buzzing and Harry can feel the anticipation, the raw want stemming from his bones. The flush down Harry’s chest matches the flush of Zayn’s cock. It’s a sight Harry never wants to lose sight of and if Zayn wasn’t Zayn Malik, wasn’t an X Factor winner, wasn’t a brand and a celebrity, he would document every angle of it.

“Can’t wait can you?” Harry snickers when Zayn shoves his hands down the back of Harry’s pants.

Zayn moans openly, tugging at Harry until he falls onto the bed with his jeans around his ankles. His movements are hindered, but he’s still able to knee his way up Zayn’s body until they’re chest to chest. Zayn’s erection presses against Harry’s boxers as he grinds against him, wiggling on the bed.

“Let me just,” Harry breaks into a moan, dropping his forehead against Zayn’s chest. He kisses the skin there, then down, down, down until he’s sucking on the solid heart tattooed on his hip. Zayn brushes his hands through Harry’s hair, messing it up and curtaining it around Harry’s face.

It would be so easy to move his head over, take Zayn in his mouth and milk an orgasm out of him.

“Wait,” Harry breathes, nipping Zayn’s skin before pulling back. He shucks off his jeans and pants until he’s just as nude as Zayn is. “Fuck, want you to finger me.”

“Yeah?” Zayn grins, licking his lips. Harry nods, tying his hair back with the elastic around his wrist.

He takes in the picture of Zayn sprawled on his back on the bed. His legs are slightly parted, toes facing the corners of the bottom of the mattress with his dick hard against his stomach. The muscles on Zayn’s arms are stretched, hands clasped behind his head and he’s looking up at Harry in a way that outlines the muscles on his stomach. His candy mouth and soft eyes look willing to do whatever Harry guides him into.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry gasps. He touches Zayn’s ankle, not making another move to get onto the bed. He just stares. “Wish I could paint you or fuck, take your picture.”

“Yeah?” Zayn smirks.

“Shut up.” Harry crawls up the bed and straddles Zayn’s thighs. He’s far enough back that their cocks don’t brush.

Zayn lifts an eyebrow like a challenge. “C’mere.”

Harry obliges, nudging Zayn’s hands away from his head so he can link their fingers together. He bends down for a kiss, stretching his legs along the bed until their ankles are tangled together and he can feel every inch of Zayn pressed along his front.

“M’I too heavy?” He asks, sucking on Zayn’s lip.

“‘Course not,” Zayn responds. He lifts his hips to prove his point and their cocks drag and – fuck, Harry can’t get enough of this addictive feeling.

Zayn’s hands scratch down Harry’s spine, red marks that he hopes will last for hours, days if he’s lucky. Like the bright purple bruises Zayn sucks into his hips and collarbone and stomach. A hiccupping moan breaks past Harry’s lips, hips thrusting down into Zayn’s groin. He spreads his legs farther to accomodate Harry’s movements and the way they move so in sync is unlike anything Harry’s ever experienced.

“M’hard,” Harry mewls, rocking his hips.

“I know.”

“Do something about it,” Harry begs. He closes his eyes as his lips navigate over Zayn’s face; butterfly kisses and little nips here and there. “Please.”

Zayn smiles against Harry’s lips. The curve of his cock bumps against Zayn. The tip wets Zayn’s abdomen, the base throbbing to the sound of Zayn’s heartbeat.

“Be good, alright?” Zayn whispers. He pushes at Harry’s shoulder until he’s the one on top with Harry trapped underneath him. He leans over to get to the side table. He’s balanced carefully, a hair’s inch away from tipping over and landing a naked mess on the floor.

He comes back with a tube of half-used lube and a Cheshire’s cat grin.

“Why’s that so empty?” Harry teases, stroking his knuckles along the hair leading to Zayn’s cock.

“Cause I jerk off when you leave.”

Harry steals the lube from Zayn. “You’re not just supposed to say that,” Harry sputters. He scans the label and when he deems that it’s good enough for them to use, hands it back to Zayn.

“S’true. You have such a nice body.”

“I have a good personality too,” Harry frowns. Zayn uncaps the lube and squirts a bit on his fingers.

“Your personality’s not what’s gonna take my dick.”

“Zayn,” Harry scolds.

Zayn only laughs unbothered by his brash comment. “Turn over for me.” When Harry does, Zayn murmurs, “Good, yeah.”

Harry hadn’t thought he was particularly partial to praise in bed, but with Zayn kissing the knobs of his spine, sliding in a smooth finger, and telling Harry how well he’s taking it, Harry never wants it to stop. Harry tries to relax; he tries not to seize up and get too worked up from the feeling of Zayn adding a second finger. It’s been so long since someone drew it out and made Harry see rainbows and fireworks behind his eyelids. In the background someone is crooning about fucking for a night.

Harry doesn’t think that’s what this is. Not with the gentle way Zayn’s hand is tucked into the bend of his waist and his other fingers and smoothly scissoring inside him. He sees sparks and flashes of white as he clenches his eyes so tight that everything becomes a blur to his nerve-endings.

“You’re so open for me.”

“You,” Harry agrees. Overwhelmed, he drops to his elbows and rests his sweaty forehead against his forearms. Every breath is ragged, every pump of his hips sending him back and onto Zayn’s fingers. “Fuck me.”

“Want it?”

Harry whimpers; half Zayn’s name and half a broken gasp, it bounces off the floor and around the four walls. Zayn manhandles Harry until he’s on his back with his leg drawn up. He’s open and Zayn devours the sight Harry gives him with his legs spread wide and thighs pressing against his chest.

It drives Harry mad, his skin pinking from the rough slide of Zayn’s beard as he kisses up the inside of Harry’s thighs. It burns pleasantly, his dick throbbing in agreement as lips drag slowly up to his knee. Zayn dips in to kiss Harry’s lips before spreading Harry’s legs farther.

The insides of his thighs are starting to burn and Harry’s so hard he’s leaking precome against his stomach. Zayn’s looking at him with wonder and fondness; the slightest tilt to his lips. “C’mon,” Harry urges. He lets go of his legs to wrap them around Zayn’s torso and bring him in.

Steady hands find Harry’s legs, urging them off until Zayn’s back to digging around his side table for a condom this time. Harry rearranges the pillows behind his head so he can get a better view without the strain on his neck and it’s everything when he gets to watch Zayn roll a condom on nice and slow, squeezing the base of his dick just to get the edge off.

Harry thinks of sucking Zayn off, slow and steady like he had in the bathroom the other day with the tiles digging into his knees and the view of Zayn looking down at him. Zayn was smirking, holding Harry’s hair off his face and shoving his hips forward until Harry gagged. Zayn had come down his throat, salty and thick, and only a bit bitter from smoking and a lack of vegetables in his diet. Zayn had hauled Harry up and bent him over the counter so he could look at himself in the mirror as Zayn ate him out until he was a sweaty mess. Taking a shower without Zayn before he went home for the night had been his only disappointment.

“Ready?” Zayn asks and he’s gentle in a way Harry never thought he’d be. He strokes Harry’s cheekbones with the back of his hand before cupping the back of his neck and bringing them together for a long kiss.

Harry’s breathless by the time they part, eager and sweaty and ready for whatever Zayn has planned for him.

The first couple of thrusts are experimental, awkward. Zayn’s face is too far away and the shadows throw his face in seedy lighting. It’s hard to make out whether Zayn’s enjoying himself as much as Harry is.

Insecurity and uneasiness wash over Harry as he thinks about the people Zayn’s been with. He’s fucked models and been fucked by athletes. He’s probably seen more people naked in a year than Harry has in his entire life. These people most likely always know the right thing to say, the right way to move their hips. And Harry’s not bad in bed. He’d like to think he’s quite talented with his hands and tongue and dick, but Zayn makes him nervous.

“This alright?” Harry asks self-consciously.

Zayn jerks his head up to Harry and the grimace floods his face immediately. “M’trying not to come.”

“You look constipated.”

Zayn gasps and knocks Harry in the side of the thigh. Vindictively, Zayn thrusts forward with a start. Harry chokes on a moan, feeling every bone in his body turn to jelly as Zayn does it over and over and over again.

Harry fists the sheets, gasping over and over, trying to form some semblance of a sentence. Distantly, there’s the sound of music and a heavy bass akin to Zayn’s own music. It’s a dull thud compared to the sound of Zayn’s hips smacking against the backs of his thighs and his arse.

“Could you come like this?”

Harry nods. Belatedly, he brushes a thumb over his nipple. Zayn must get the hint because he removes his fingers from Harry’s hip and tweaks his other nipple. Harry’s toes flex, thighs tremble, and Zayn ignores every sign of giving him more and focuses on shallow thrusts that barely give Harry anything more than a tease.

“You’re sweating,” Zayn observes. He hums low in his throat before wrapping his fingers around the base of Harry’s dick. His thumb swipes over the head of Harry’s dick, smearing the precome leaking from the slit back down Harry’s shaft.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You like it.” Zayn leans down and kisses the underside of Harry’s jaw. Harry’s dick bumps against the ridges of Zayn’s abdomen.

He’s beautiful in every sense of the word with his shoulders hunched and his back rolling as he fucks into Harry. They’re unbothered by the noises they’re making, confident that Noor is asleep and blissfully unaware. All-consumed in the feel and taste and smell of each other, there’s nowhere Harry would rather be than on this bed with this man.

Zayn pulls out and repositions his himself on the bed so he kneels taller. He grabs one of the perfectly white pillows from beside Harry’s head and stuffs it in half under Harry’s hips. He’s pure energy after that; bright bursts of light when he smiles down at Harry and fucks with no care. Zayn tangles their fingers together, wet with come and lube and sweat, and presses the backs of Harry’s hands into the mattress as they rock together.

“Need a hand or are you good?”

“M’gonna come,” Harry rasps. He sounds fucked out and dazed, feels even more so. “Come on though. I can take more.”

“Yeah?” Zayn evens out his weight a bit more so gravity does some of the work and the angle and speed hit Harry perfectly until his legs are shaking and toes curling and all he can feel is a coil tightening deep within him.

Harry sucks in a breath. His eyes pinch shut as he wills himself to hold out for one more breath, five more seconds. It doesn’t work.

He comes messily all over his stomach and Zayn’s. He can’t see it, but he feels the way it splats on his stomach in thick streaks. He’s open and content after that, lazily clenching around Zayn until he comes in the condom and drapes himself over Harry.

They tip sideways and tangle their legs together. “Least there’s no wet spot this time,” Harry whispers against Zayn’s wet lips.

“We still need to change the sheets.”

“No,” Harry whines. He grips Zayn’s ass and drags them flush together. Harry hisses at the sensitivity, but it’s not unpleasant.

Zayn hums before going in for a kiss. His beard burns against Harry’s chin. It’s a blissful couple of moments where they can pretend that Zayn still doesn’t have the condom half hanging off his dick and Harry doesn’t have to get up to go home for the night only to return a few hours later to watch Noor.

He’s just about to get up when Zayn knocks their foreheads together and says, “Stay.”

“Here?” Harry asks just as quietly.

“Yeah. Just – yeah.”

“Okay.” Harry stretches out, purposefully leaning his weight on Zayn. “Should probably take a shower while you change those sheets then.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but gets up nonetheless. He undoes the condom and without tying it, tosses it into the bin.

\---

Zayn tastes like smoke covered by spearmint when Harry crawls under the covers and kisses him.

There are so many things in the room that he had passed up on seeing the first time Zayn dragged Harry into his room and snogged the living daylights out of him. Like the grand piano shoved into the corner with some ferns and bamboo; the massive television that comes away from the wall and rotates is also a bonus although they’ve never used it; and the fluffy mattress that is usually buried beneath a mountain of duvets.

They’re naked and warm and it’s so comfortable to be pressed up along someone like this.

“Hey,” Zayn’s mindlessly tracing the tattoos on Harry’s bicep when Harry finally gets the courage to ask what’s been on his mind for ages. “Remember when you made Noor that blanket fort and I came over?” Zayn kisses Harry’s chest gently and nods. “That story, you said, um – you said that you and Ivana were on good terms and I was just wondering like – I know it’s not my business, but like-”

“Harry, slow down. You can ask about it.”

“Okay,” Harry nods.

Zayn raises an eyebrow before laughing at Harry’s sheepishness. “I guess I’ll just tell you then?”

“If you want. I mean-”

“Can’t back out now.” Zayn nips Harry’s lip before continuing, “We’d known of each other for a while and all night we were flirting across this club, like,” Zayn shrugs, “so I bought her a drink and we got to chatting and we went home together and smoked some weed, drank some more and then,” Zayn waves his hand around. “She contacted my management to tell me she was pregnant and I believed her right away because we didn’t use a condom. I remember um, we had a conversation about names and she didn’t have anything in mind, but I wanted to name the baby something special. Like, her mum and I weren’t dating and I was thinking of Arabic names and Noor-”

“Means light,” Harry interrupts. The smile that breaks over Zayn’s face is absolutely worth the interruption.

“Exactly. Like I said, her mum and I were both a little too into ourselves and this lifestyle we were living, going out clubbing and drinking and Noor was like, this beacon of light coming into our lives.” Zayn looks sheepish at the admission. “We sat down and had phone conversations with lawyers and decided that she was going to take care of Noor because I was recording and touring and she’s a couple years older so it made sense.

“Ivana started dating Lother Amsel, the left midfielder for the FC Bayern München, when I was on tour in Japan and I wasn’t mad or anything because what we had wasn’t love. It burned that she just packed up and moved with Noor and-” Zayn scrubs a hand over his face tiredly. “I don’t even know how it was brought up really, but she figured a life on the road with me was steadier than traveling between football matches and flying around the world to do more modeling gigs. I don’t resent her or have any bad feelings. I’m glad I get to spend so much time with Noor because when she was first born I was a shithead who only cared about drinking and partying, but Noor’s changed my life so much.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say. He rubs his thumb over Zayn’s hip, and kisses his shoulder. “God, it’s been forever since I told someone this.”

“I’m glad you trust me,” Harry whispers.

“‘Course,” Zayn pecks Harry dryly on the lips. “M’really glad that you’re here for Noor.” Then after a heartbeat, “for me too. You’re good for us.”

Harry chases Zayn until they’re kissing properly again. “M’glad to be here.” He scoots back until they’re no longer touching each other and Harry can focus more on the conversation than the way Zayn’s dick is half hard against his thigh. “Now tell me what the most embarrassing moment on a tour has been.”

\---

“You tramp,” Niall grins, perched in a chair in Harry’s kitchen. He’s got a massive plate of beans and toast with a sunny side up egg on it and strips of bacon on the side.

“Where the hell did you get that,” Harry asks, plucking a piece of bacon and shoving it straight into his mouth.

“Where the hell did you get _that_. Christ, it’s fucking huge.” Niall presses his thumb against the clean purple bruise on Harry’s pec. If Harry had known he wasn’t home alone he would have put on a shirt or something.

“Fuck off,” Harry hisses, batting Niall away. “S’Liam home?”

“On a run. I brought you breakfast because I’m the best mate you’ve ever had.”

“The best,” Harry agrees. He checks the oven and finds two plates of beans and toast with bacon and eggs.

“Fruit’s in the fridge because I know you like that healthy crap.”

Harry smacks a kiss against Niall’s forehead before sitting down to join him.

“So, which poor sod did you get off with this time?” Niall jerks away from the punch Harry throws at him easily. “Or girl, I can never remember with you.” Harry rolls his eyes and refuses to look up. He cuts a triangle of beans on toast and shoves it into his mouth. “So who is he?”

“No one,” Harry says under his breath.

He doesn’t think about the way they had woken up on opposite ends of the bed with their limbs meeting in the middle to overlap and hold on. Nor does he think about the way Zayn had kissed him with morning breath and whispered that he better find a shirt for Harry so Noor doesn’t get suspicious. He tries not to relive the way Zayn had pulled Harry into his lap when Noor went to the bathroom. Or about the intense way Zayn had kissed him or the way his eyes lingered on Harry’s lips when they played Monopoly. He doesn’t think about when Noor took a nap and Zayn pushed Harry onto his back and straddled his hips, taking off his shirt to kiss below one of the birds on Harry’s chest.

“He’s no one, I swear. Just a one off.” Harry can hear the defensive edge in his voice. He can’t help it though. Zayn and him haven’t discussed their relationship and as long as Harry keeps telling himself that it’s nothing then he doesn’t have to think about the fact that they leave in seven weeks.

“Liam says you’ve been gone a few nights last week.”

“S’not a thing.” Then because he’s paranoid as shit, Harry tacks on, “Stop making it a thing.”

Niall cackles, smacking Harry’s knee and dodging the flick on his ear. “M’just saying. You look well shagged.”

“You’re horrible.” Harry takes a couple pieces of bacon off Niall’s plate even though he’s got enoughon his own. “How’s it going with you, though?”

“S’fine. Wish I got to see more of you though. Liam’s told me about the crazy hours Malik’s got you working.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s not working you too hard though, right? Because I can have Ed talk to him for you or something.”

Harry can feel sweat prickling at the back of his neck. “It’s fine. I’ve actually talked to him a few times.”

“Yeah? And he’s a prick, or what?”

“No. He’s actually quite nice. He like… I misjudged him.” Harry can feel how scarlet his cheeks have turned; the blush that burns down his chest.

Niall has a sly smile twisting his lips and egg yolk on his bottom lip. He looks like a complete idiot.

“Why’re you giving me that look?”

“He is quite fit, isn’t he? Payno has the biggest boner for him.”

“You’re so crude, you know that? You’re always so inappropriate.”

Niall wiggles his eyebrows. And because he’s a little shit he presses his thumb against the bruise on Harry’s chest.

“Stop that. God. You’re horrible, I hate you.”

“You love me.” Niall scrapes the edge of his fork along his plate and gathers all the yolk and leftover beans.

“I tolerate you. Don’t you have work today?”

Niall shrugs. “I work a mid, but Liam’s performing tonight if you want to come.”

“Of course I want to come.”

“Good. You should invite Zayn and Noor too.”

“Liam sings in a bar, Niall. S’not the best environment for a child.”

Niall scoffs, “She tours with her dad, she probably sees worse.”

“Baba,” Harry corrects without thought, taking another huge bite of his toast.

“What?”

“Baba. Like, it means father in Arabic. It’s what Noor calls Zayn.”

“Okay,” Niall shovels the last piece of breakfast into his mouth and says around his half-chewed food, “You should come out anyway, s’gonna be great and I want to get drunk.”

So that’s what they do.

Harry texts Zayn to invite him to the bar and promises that Noor will be well looked after. To Harry’s surprise, Zayn agrees to come.

When they arrive, Harry gives Zayn a quick hug before hoisting Noor onto his hip and bopping her nose. She has massive pink noise cancelling headphones around the back of her neck. “Are you ready to watch Lima sing?”

“Mhmm. I brought my earplugs from baba’s shows.”

“Smart. That must have been your idea.”

Noor nods, but behind her Zayn shakes his head.

“What’re you drinking?”

“Ginger ale, you want some?”

“Might get a beer.”

Noor scrunches her face up. “Beer makes you smell bad.”

“It does.” Harry nods solemnly. He thinks about the couple of beers Niall had shotgunned with Josh, one of the other cooks from Niall’s kitchen, before coming to the show. “Don’t drink it Noor.”

“I want pineapple juice!”

They find a booth that allows them a fairly decent view. When Liam comes on, Noor claps wildly from her spot on Harry’s lap. Zayn’s tucked in close to him with his arm around the back of the booth.

Liam does a couple of his usual covers and when he does his rendition of one of Zayn’s songs, Noor sings and waves her arms in the air. Some people turn to watch her – the fact that she’s a five-year-old in the bar isn’t a common occurrence around here – while others ignore her. No one seems to recognize Zayn and if they do, no one comes up to him.

Niall, sweaty and drunk, finds them easily after Liam takes a bow and performs a two-song encore. “Brilliant like always that Payno.”

“Payno,” Noor cheers.

Niall gives her a high five before sliding into the booth across from them. “Let’s get some nachos then, yeah?”

Liam arrives on his own time with a proud flush that quickly turns into a star struck blush when he sees Zayn beside Harry. “Oh my – I didn’t – Harry never said – I-”

“Breathe mate,” Niall giggles, swatting Liam’s back.

“You were very good Payno,” Noor says seriously.

Liam breaks out into a dopey grin, reaching across to ruffle her hair. “Thanks Noor. Did you have fun?”

“Lots!”

“Good. And uh, did you? Zayn?”

“Yeah. S’chill. I liked the cover of mine you did.”

Liam’s blush gets even pinker. Harry pinches his cheek like a proud mum after her son’s first Christmas recital. “S’not very good. I just – yeah.”

“Liam has a brilliant voice. Too good for this place.”

“This place gives you half-priced shots whenever you’re here,” Liam reminds Harry. “Anyway,” Liam brushes his hands together and avoids looking in Zayn’s direction. “Let’s get those nachos, shall we?”

\---

“Noor, what’s your favourite part about being on tour with baba?”

“Mmm,” Noor brushes her dolls hair back with a small plastic comb. “I like… Playing hide and go seek.”

“Hide and go seek? How do you play that?” Harry picks up one of her orange teddy bears and strokes its fur. It has a massive green cupcake stitched into its stomach with bright blue and pink sprinkles atop white icing.

“We go to where baba sings and they have lots of hallways and rooms and baba and I hide and wait for one of Carlos or Andrew to find us.”

“You do? Are you and baba good?”

Noor nods proudly. “One time they didn’t find us until baba had to sing and Carlos got so mad at us that he grounded baba.” Noor’s face is scrunched up adorably, big eyes wide and excited about their mischief.

“Carlos grounded baba? That’s pretty silly.” Harry feeds the teddy a plastic biscuit when Noor glances at it.

“It was! And baba wasn’t allowed out of the hotel room all day so he built another fort.”

“Does baba build forts for you often?”

“Mhmm. He says his baba did that for him when he was my age and he always felt safe and protected.” Noor says it with certainty that can only come from hearing the phrase repeated over and over.

It’s easy to picture Zayn and Noor in a nameless hotel room building forts and hiding in them. Every hotel room has sheets and it explains why Zayn had seemed to have mastered the build of it the other week.

“What else do you do on tour with baba?” Harry presses. He wants to hear all about it. The food and the adventures, whether Caroline watches Noor and Zayn goes out to party at prestigious clubs with rappers and models like the magazines make it seem.

“We draw lots. Baba draws a picture and I colour it or I draw for baba and he colours.” Noor lets the doll fall into the floor as she faces Harry with excitement. “Baba has a picture I drew for his birthday in his tour bus bed.”

“He does? You must be quite the artist.”

“Uh-huh. Baba says I’m better than Aunty Doni, but she draws pictures for books so I think he’s lying.”

“Your baba would never lie to you. Do you want to draw something for him now?”

“Yeah!” Noor nods, flinging her doll by its raggedy arm into the air.

“Okay. Let me get all the supplies and-”

“No!” Noor shrieks. “You can’t go in there. Only me.”

She’s wide eyed and panicked, unmoving from her cross-legged position on her carpet.

“Okay,” Harry says carefully.

With the carelessness of a five-year-old, Noor kicks her doll to the side in her haste to scramble to her art drawer. Harry doesn’t bother to reprimand her while he cleans up the mess of fake tea and biscuits.

They go out into the living room where Harry can faintly hear the sound of music playing through Zayn’s door. It’s hard to remember a time when Zayn’s bedroom was silent throughout the day, when Harry questioned if he even existed and if he even realized he had a daughter. In retrospect, it’s funny how much Harry’s opinion of Zayn has changed in the three short weeks of talking and snogging and fucking him. It’s not just the physical aspects that have changed his mind, Harry’s sure. Though the length and girth and sheer talent of Zayn’s cock is definitely a bonus.

Harry fixes up a lunch of tomato soup and cheese toasties and when he tells Noor it’s lunchtime she shyly flips her drawing over before joining him at the breakfast bar.

As if on cue, Zayn walks out of his bedroom shirtless and with damp hair. Harry takes a bite of his too hot sandwich just to distract himself from the boxers that cling to Zayn’s waist and the little bits of water on his chest. He drops a kiss to the top of Noor’s head and ruffles her hair on passing.

When Harry hands the plate to Zayn he hisses, “you did this on /purpose/.”

“Did what?” Zayn asks innocently. But he winks after taking his plate and pouring himself a bowl of soup. Noor munches happily next to her baba when he lets out a downright filthy groan. “This sandwich is amazing babe, thanks.”

“Shut it,” Harry warns. He wishes he was on the other side of the bar just so he could have a chance at punching Zayn.

“That’s not very nice, Harry.”

“No it’s not, is it Noor?” Zayn smirks at Harry. “Thanks for pointing that out meri jaan, you can get a sticker for that.”

“Yay! You’re the best.”

“And another sticker just for that,” Zayn promises.

Noor smiles gooey cheese and bread clinging to her teeth.

Either Zayn’s in a really good mood or Harry missed the memo where he could reward Noor for doing any good deed no matter how small. He’ll have to talk to Zayn about it at some point.

\---

 

 

 

 

\---

The doorbell rings in the middle of Zayn and Harry’s snogging session and it’s strange.

It’s strange because they haven’t ordered any room service and Zayn’s got his hand down Harry’s pants, cupping and squeezing his dick and Harry is very, very interested in where this is headed. Especially because Noor’s down for a nap and Zayn’s lips are practically fused to Harry’s collar and his hips are giving these tiny thrusts and he wants more, more, more, but –

The doorbell rings again.

“Christ,” Zayn laughs, licking his lips. He surges in for another sweet kiss though. One that tastes like the red wine they’ve been drinking even though it’s four in the afternoon and one that promises a ‘be right back’, a ‘I don’t want to get the door’, a ‘just one more, please.’

Harry fixes his shirt and shamelessly watches how Zayn gets up with an evident boner and makes his way to the door.

Harry crosses his legs and tries to fix his shirt. His lips ache from Zayn’s teeth and he knows he must look debauched; his hair a mess from Zayn’s fingers mussing it up, his lips sucking marks on Harry’s jaw, his neck, his ear. Harry wants to wrap his limbs around Zayn’s back and force him into the bedroom, somewhere more private, somewhere where a ringing doorbell wouldn’t distract them.

“Oh,” Zayn says.

Harry jerks his head to watch whoever Zayn’s talking to, but it’s not a conversation.

It’s a short man with a curvy waist flinging himself at Zayn with a shout.

Harry’s first instinct is to leap off the couch and defend Zayn against this unnamed assailant, but after seeing the way Zayn’s arms wrap around him and he starts shouting himself he’s –

He’s sure the man’s not a crazed fan of Zayn’s. Besides, “How’d you get in?”

The man unravels himself from Zayn’s body and arches an eyebrow. He has the unimpressed and snarky glare down to a science. If he wasn’t so short, Harry would be much more intimidated by him.

“When you’re the one who’s booked the room, you get special privileges.” The man looks between Zayn and Harry then crosses his arms. “Why. Who are you?”

“Harry’s Noor’s babysitter,” Zayn answers without missing a beat. “Y’know, Ed’s mate.”

“Oh you’re Harry. Huh,” the man wanders over to Harry. The gold dusting of hair on his jawline and cheeks is illuminated by the light filtering through the blinds. His eyes are a stormy blue and his lips thin when he says, “Well I’m Louis. Tomlinson.”

“Oh. Oh, of course. Zayn speaks very highly of you,” Harry says because he’s polite and he wants to make a good impression and according to Zayn, he’s only Noor’s babysitter.

Louis scoffs while he shakes Harry’s hand with just a tad too much pressure. “Can’t imagine he does, but that’s nice of you to say, innit?”

“You’re such an idiot.” Zayn laughs and wraps an arm back around Louis’ waist.

“And where’s my goddaughter?” Louis asks with his hands on his hips. His scuffed vans haven’t been left by the door and his black jeggings are rolled up at the ankle. For someone who produces and writes as much music as Louis seems to, he could probably afford newer shoes.

“She’s not your goddaughter,” Zayn tells him. “But she’s down for a nap and if you wake her, I’ll kill you.”

“Well then I guess I’ll just join you and drink some wine.” Louis walks - no, struts - to the couch Zayn and Harry were just on and drapes himself on it. Zayn sits comfortably beside him and Harry just –

Well Harry just flounders for where he belongs because Louis looks perfectly content and at home while Zayn is staring at Louis like he hung the stars and the moon. Louis’ calves rest on Zayn’s thighs and Zayn’s got a hand on Louis’ knee, fingering the hole from the ripped denim.

They look comfortable, in sync in a way that comes with years of friendship and fierce trust. Harry reckons he has that with Liam and Niall, even with the short span of their relationship, though they certainly don’t look at each other the way Louis and Zayn do. Not like they are engaging in a conversation through their eyes alone.

“When did you even start drinking wine?” Louis asks while holding up Harry’s glass of wine. “Y'always said people who drank wine outside of formal gatherings were snooty pricks.” Louis snorts again before taking a generous sip.

Harry’s sure his stare burns a hole in the back of Zayn’s head because he was the one who suggested that Zayn and him share a bottle.

“S'different out here,” Zayn settles on. He doesn’t turn around to send Harry a reassuring smile or invite him to join them on the couch.

“Well, you have me for a whole week, Z. Hope this island hasn’t changed you too much.”

Its then that Harry clears his throat and finally utters an, “I suppose I’ll go then. Since Noor’s asleep and all.”

Louis finally turns to face him and it’s with a look of displeasure. He looks Harry up and down while twirling the wine glass in his hand. “Do you not stay and cook dinner? I thought you did that?”

“Lou,” Zayn hisses and although the gesture is nice, it falls a little flat when Zayn doesn’t even push Louis’ legs off him.

“I do sometimes,” Harry mumbles to the floor. “Occasionally. Just if Zayn needs it or if Noor’s had a long day.”

“You could make dinner for us then. Since it’s my first night here and all.”

“No. Harry you don’t have to do that.”

“We can go out then? Just you and me for old time’s sake and Harry can stay behind and watch Noor, right?”

Harry fumbles to find his words. Louis makes him feel like a complete idiot. A hopeless boy infatuated with a man he can’t have.

On the island, everything is simple. He gets up and he goes for a run or does some yoga with light meditation. He takes a shower and tosses off then grabs breakfast before watching Noor. He visits his friends at work and cooks simple dinners with fresh ingredients and he just so happens to be frequently shagging his famous millionaire boss.

Harry can compartmentalize. He can keep his feelings for Zayn under wraps when he’s with Liam or Niall and he can pretend that keeping his hookups with Zayn from his best mates isn’t tearing him in two.

“‘Course.” Harry agrees. “You should take him to that seafood place. Where they flambé the shrimp right in front of you.”

“Yes!” Louis cheers, draining Harry’s wine then standing up. “You’re paying, let’s go.”

Zayn looks wary. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes he does Zayner. You can pay him overtime or something,” Louis says as he slips into his vans.

Zayn doesn’t kiss nor hug nor ruffle Harry’s hair like he usually does when they part for a night. Zayn bows at Harry awkwardly and gives a polite wave before closing the door. Harry can do without the hugs and the kisses. He’s been in relationships where his partner is closeted and he’s been in relationships where the other person just wasn’t ready to let the people around them know they were together. Harry has dealt with public rejections and uncomfortably pleading looks when in awkward situations, but never has he felt so dismissed or disposable as Zayn has made him feel.

So Harry refills the wine glass that Louis left in his wake and takes a drink.

\---

Harry gets the text not even a minute after he steps foot into his suite.

It’s not very descriptive, just ‘ _don’t worry about coming to work for the week xP._ ’ His stomach drops as he toes out of his shoes. He wants to be bitter and ask if he’s embarrassed of Harry, but he’s confident that there is no way in hell Zayn would tell Louis about the babysitter he’s fucking.

Thinking of them in those terms leaves an acrid taste in his mouth.

Harry wants to believe that he’s more than a warm hole and a wet mouth and someone to play house with while Zayn vacations at an exorbitant villa. He knows he is, just –

‘ _gonna spend time with Lou aha don’t get to see him a lot !!_ ’

So after changing into a clean pair of boxers and stripping out of his shirt, it’s out of curiosity and pure jealousy that Harry Googles them. He’s lying on his stomach with his laptop in front of him and his pillow propped under his chest. He types in their two names together, nothing more and nothing less, but the articles that come up – 2,800,000 results in .39 seconds – tell otherwise.

For starters, the first result is a website of transformative works in a non-profit organization. With further browsing and pink stained cheeks Harry finds that its fan fiction about Zayn and Louis. He quickly exits out of the webpage and deletes it from his history.

Somehow, it gets worse from there. There are complete fan blogs dedicated to picking apart their relationship. Every picture has a fan theory behind it of what they were doing before and after the picture. Every video is analyzed to the point that a ten second clip of Louis walking in front of Zayn turns into a minute long video with slow motion and romantic music playing in the background.

There are compilations of tweets that they’ve sent to each other and rarely seen pictures are compiled into one long post that Harry only gets halfway through before realizing how obsessive he’s being.

Even in secondary and university, when Harry fancied someone, he only stalked their Facebook and Instagram for a couple of minutes. He didn’t look for longer than half an hour and he certainly didn’t start buying into the belief that they were previously in a romantic relationship with their best friend.

Granted, the best friend of the person Harry was dating, more often than not, didn’t come out as bisexual.

It definitely doesn’t help that there are pictures of Louis and Zayn at awards shows together, walking the carpet in matching colour schemes and hugging each other when they win. It doesn’t help that there are grainy pictures that make it look like they’re holding hands. One in particular shows them outside a bar with Zayn holding a cigarette while Louis smokes from it.

Their relationship is close – there’s no denying that – but Harry hates how uncertainty clouds his mind and all he can think about is Louis sitting on Zayn’s couch, making Noor smile in a way only Harry thought he could, or lying in Harry’s spot in Zayn’s bed.

Scenarios play out in Harry’s head like a horror film. It was hard not to notice how seamlessly they fit together; their careers, their lives, their family values according to one joint interview that involved showing off their matching tattoos and recounting stories of their friendship. Harry watches seven of the twelve minutes before turning it off.

After powering down his laptop and allowing the duvet to wrap around him heavily, Harry feels betrayed in a way he knows he doesn’t deserve to. Zayn never lied to him. He never said or did anything to intentionally hurt Harry and yet Harry’s the one lying in a cold room alone while Zayn’s most likely cuddled up with Louis.

Harry has a fitful sleep.

\---

Without the bursting ball of energy that is Noor, Harry entertains himself like he had before the Maliks came into his life. He goes to the pool and flirts with the guests. He drinks free piña coladas and gets day drunk until he passes out in the shade and only wakes up because Gemma sends him a picture of her nonexistent baby bump.

He pens song lyrics into his journal and tries not to think about the fact that his phone hasn’t received a message from Zayn in three days.

Harry goes into town to get his mind off of it. He doesn’t walk past the building the Maliks are staying in as he walks to the employee office to borrow someone’s car keys. He doesn’t think about Zayn’s stupid songs or voice when he chooses a playlist that has all of his songs on it. He doesn’t think about every word Zayn sings and try to decipher if it was written with Louis in mind. He’s jealous or bitter and he doesn’t respond to the adorable picture of Noor that Zayn finally sends him. Even if it is of Noor sitting at the grand piano in Zayn’s bedroom with him sitting beside her looking completely enamoured.

Harry shops with conviction. He gets his specialty chocolate almond milk that the resort doesn’t deliver to them. He opens the carton when he gets to the beach and he knows how pathetic he must look to the families and couples around him, but he plunks down onto the sand and drinks his milk while watching the ocean.

Time passes through waves crashing ahead of him and never quite making it to his toes. Children run behind him shrieking with laughter and he can hear bits of the conversations of the people who passby. He hauls himself up when his skin starts to goose bump.

The drive isn’t nearly as long as he’d like it to be and he winds up walking through his door around the same time he would get off work.

“Oh, you’ve come home,” Liam greets. Except it’s not a greeting. He sounds angry.

“I live here,” Harry shrugs. He’s not in the mood to deal with this and if his voice sounds harder around the edges, well it’s Liam who started this.

“You know that’s not what I mean. You rarely come home after work anymore.”

“I go out.” God, Liam sounds so much like Gemma. “I have a life Liam.”

“I’m not saying you can’t. It’s just – the last time I really saw you was when you came to my performance with Zayn and that was – fuck – that was two weeks ago.”

“So I’m supposed to spend every minute of the day with you Liam?” Harry bursts. He regrets it as soon as he says it, but Liam’s already drawn his hackles up.

“You don’t even know what’s going on with me anymore Haz! I got a tattoo and you didn’t even notice.” Liam holds up his forearm which is wrapped in cling film.

“I-”

“No,” Liam sighs. He sounds so sad and so unlike the Liam Harry knows that it cracks his heart that bit more. “I wait for you to come home all the time Harry. All I have is you and Niall and I don’t know what you get up to or if you just don’t like me anymore, but you barely talked to me when you saw me sing and you haven’t texted in our group chat in ages.”

“Liam, I’m sorry.” Liam raises his eyebrows and before he can even get out the ‘that’s it’ that Harry is sure is on the tip of his tongue, he continues. “I’ve been shit for the past month. I know I have. I don’t have an excuse. But can we have a lad’s night or something soon? I miss them.”

Liam’s face softens. “Yeah, of course we can. I just worry about you Haz. I’m not here for too much longer, and I want to spend as much time with you and Niall as I can.”

\---

The strobe lights flash neon greens and blues and to his right, Harry can see a disco ball swirling silver across the dance floor. He doesn’t regret the shots he did with Niall at the bar nor the beer pong games he lost against Liam and Josh in their suite. He’s drunker than he’s been in ages; between fun and games with Noor and late nights cooped up with Zayn, Harry hasn’t had much of a chance to do what he previously had all summer.

But fuck Zayn because he’s with Louis and he hasn’t messaged Harry since he sent him that photo of Noor. He hasn’t been at the pool or under the tree that Noor likes to sit under and climb up. He hasn’t tried to make any contact at all and he feels like Woody in Toy Story when Andy gets the shiny new Buzz Lightyear. Except that Louis’ the old toy so he should be ignored and not Harry.

Fuck he’s drunk.

“Neil, I’m so drunk.”

“Don’t call me Neil you arsehole,” Niall squawks, punching Harry in the shoulder.

“M’drunk. Love me,” Harry throws an arm over Niall and leans his weight against him.

They go stumbling until they crash into Liam. His cheeks are ruby and his smile so wide his eyes completely disappear. “You’re drunk Haz.”

“I know.” Harry abandons Niall to throw his arms around Liam’s neck. When he looks up at his eyes and sees a muddy brown instead of a stunning Hazel. His lips are too thin and his skin too light. He doesn’t hold Harry like he’s the most precious nugget of gold in the world. Harry straightens up quickly. “Want to do shots?”

“Maybe you should have some water.” Liam eyes him suspiciously while Harry scoffs at the suggestion.

“You’re boring. I want to dance!” Harry decides.

“Go dance by yourself. Liam and I are going to find a booth.”

Harry shimmies his way to the dance floor by himself. Everyone looks to be having a good time. Some people are in short shorts and tight tank tops; others are in swing dresses or Hawaiian tops and khakis. There’s a couple on the dancefloor in matching ‘I heart Anguilla’ shirts and jeans shorts whereas Harry had opted for a pair of tight jeans and a sheer shirt. He’s not wearing any pants though so he feels like his chances of shagging in the toilet are at a high probability if he ends up dancing with someone he likes.

It’s only half a song of mindless dancing and ridiculous arm movements before someone slides up behind him. They’re a bit shorter than Harry judging by the way they’re grinding against the back of his thigh. Their hands settle on Harry’s waist and as they rock to the beat together, Harry entwines their fingers and runs them over his stomach, down a bit until they brush past the pockets of his jeans and back over his hips. Harry can feel the way his dance partner’s breath hitches when he bends the smallest amount and pushes his arse backwards.

Harry’s spun around then, everything going topsy-turvy. He grabs the man’s shoulders and centers his weight and the guy is shit, he’s breathtaking. All golden blond hair and tanned skin. His eyes are a deep brown and his lips so pink they look like the inside of a grapefruit.

“Hi,” the guy says with an American twang. He sounds like he’s from the south, somewhere Harry’s only scene on television and heard singing country songs.

“Hey,” Harry answers, sliding closer to him. “Where you from?”

“Georgia. It’s in America.”

“S’hot,” Harry hums.

The guy smiles and it’s like every thought of Zayn melts from Harry’s head. His arms are muscular and his jawline is impeccable. His nose is just a smidgen too big for his face, but so was Harry’s until he grew into it.

“M’Harry.”

“Lucas.”

They shake hands which is absurd because Harry’s grinding against his thigh while Lucas does the same. Lucas cups the back of Harry’s neck with a sweaty hand and tips their heads together until their foreheads touch. He’s so painfully good looking that Harry wonders how long he’s been on the island without them meeting before. He wonders how long they could have been doing this for if Harry wasn’t hung up on stupid Zayn with his stupid eyes and his stupid smirk and his stupid love for his daughter. He also has a stupid love for Louis, Harry thinks with a scowl.

“You okay?”

Harry nods and swoops down to kiss Lucas’ cheek. “Perfect.”

Songs blend together until Harry feels thirsty and sweaty and starting to regret wearing such tight pants.

“You want to grab a drink?” Harry asks, sliding his hands down Lucas’ back until they rest on the lowest point of his back.

Lucas nods and threads their fingers together on the walk to the bar. They have to push past a couple of people, but when they reach the opening, the air is clearer and cooler.

“What would you like?” Lucas asks, already pulling his wallet out.

“It’s my treat,” Harry insists, “I’m the one that asked.”

“My wallets out already though,” Lucas counters. He flags the bartender and sits on a free barstool. It only takes a moment before he motions for Harry to put an arm around his shoulders. He laughs when Harry obliges and it’s like his entire face lights up even more. If Harry tries hard enough he can ignore the pang in his heart telling him that this is a cheap replacement.

The bartender walks past them and Lucas, defeated, puts his hand down. Harry scans the crowd looking for Niall and Liam, maybe Josh, but he’s more than likely found someone to spend the night with already.

“So, I’m actually on vacation with my sister,” Lucas begins, but someone catches Harry’s eye. “Do you have a place here or…?”

Harry tunes in half a beat too late. He’s seeing things he’s sure. “Um, sorry what was that?”

Lucas laughs and shakes his head. A hand sneaks up the front of Harry’s shirt. “Do you want to go somewhere a little more private?”

It’s not a trick of the lights this time or someone else passing where Harry thinks it could be Louis. No, it definitely is Louis and he’s staring at Harry like he’s out for fucking blood. He’s stood in the middle of the floor as people walk in front and behind him. He’s small, there’s no doubt, but his look is venomous and Harry doesn’t want to approach him to find out why the fuck he looks so mad. If he’s found out about Harry and Zayn’s relationship than Harry does not want to stick around and deal with how angry Louis is.

After all, he’s seen videos of Louis drunkenly yelling at paps to fuck off and Harry has seen pictures of Louis’ arm around Zayn’s waist looking at the photographers like he’d rip their heads off if he could.

“Harry… if you don’t wanna do this anymore-”

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve – my friends,” Harry offers lamely.

“Hey, it’s no trouble,” Lucas shrugs and at least has the decency to hug Harry.

Harry’s unable to find Louis again after that. Not that he goes looking for him. Lamely, Harry texts Liam and Niall to tell them he’s gone home ill while he walks back to his suite.

It is certainly not a lie. Guilt and confusion; heartache and the sheer amount of dread Harry feels for having to see Zayn in two day’s time keeps him up much longer than he’d care to admit.

\---

At a young age, thankfulness was instilled in Harry.

Before he could even talk, Harry would give hugs and kisses to his family and friends. He would cling to them after some gentle encouragements from Anne until they were smiling widely and prying him off of them. At the end of every primary school year, Harry would bake cookies with his mum for his teachers. He would give them Christmas gifts of candy cane sleighs along with a card thanking them for the first half of the school year no matter how awful they were.

In university Harry had a pack of thank you notes that he would send to professors despite how everyone called him a kiss arse. He sends follow up emails after job interviews to ensure that the employer knew how much he appreciated the opportunity.

Harry was thankful when his mum stayed with him on the first day of primary when he sobbed into her work blouse and refused to let go of her hand. When he was fifteen and came home drunk for the first time off of apple cider coolers and vodka that smelt like nail varnish remover, he puked all over his duvet. Luckily, Gemma heard him come home and helped him load up the washing machine and sent him to bed in hers with a glass of water and a couple of Tylenols.

Turning seventeen meant a car from Robin to which Harry would never be able to pay him back for. He’s infinitely grateful for the small silver car Robin gave him that sits in his mum’s garage back in Holmes Chapel awaiting his return. He’s also thankful that Robin attempted to teach Harry how to drive… only to hire him a driving instructor after Harry almost ran into two garbage bins and a mailman crossing the road. He’s thankful that he was able to travel abroad after graduating university and he’s thankful for Anguilla and its beautiful view along with the amazing pack of friends he’s made.

He’s also very, very thankful that Noor greets him at the door instead of Zayn. She runs at him full speed, bright smile lighting up her face and arms outstretched to jump. Harry ruffles her wavy hair and buries his nose in it. He’s just about to tell her he’s missed her when –

“Harry, I had the best time with Uncle Lou!” Harry swallows back his shock at Noor’s enthusiasm to tell her about Louis fucking Tomlinson. “We went to the beaches and he drove us around and he took the roof off his car and I lost my hairband, but he bought me a new one!”

“Lucky you.”

“I know! And we had lots of cuddles and he read to me before bedtime and he brought me a stuffed tiger!” Noor wiggles her way out of Harry’s arm and takes off running towards her bedroom.

Harry is barely in the doorway when he sees her with a stuffed animal bigger than the top half of her body. “How did he get that on a plane?”

“He can do anything,” Noor says with wonder. Harry wonders if Noor spoke of him with such admiration to Louis. “He’s my favourite!”

And because Harry’s petty and apparently a five-year-old just like Noor, Harry says spitefully, “Come on now Noor. You’re making me think you didn’t miss me at all.”

“I missed you loads.” Noor puts her tiger back on the bed and drags Harry into the room until they’re sitting criss-crossed on her rug. “We went to look at the dolphins and I asked baba if you could come but he said you were busy all week so you couldn’t come.” Noor’s eyebrows are wrinkled and her eyes are so big and round and genuine that Harry crumbles.

“I was just kidding angel,” he says with the biggest smile he can muster despite hearing that the man he’s been sleeping with and spending most of his time with intentionally lied to Noor because he didn’t want to spend time with Harry. “What other fun things did you do?”

Harry listens as distantly as he can about how fun Louis is and how funny Louis is and how baba cried when Louis left. He hears about how they went to a restaurant and Louis bought them all frozen slushies but she couldn’t have any of his because it was adult and she’s not an adult yet. She had chicken tacos which are apparently her new favourite dinner because that’s what Louis likes to eat. Noor talks for so long that her stomach starts rumbling.

“M’hungry, Harry.”

“What would you like for lunch?”

“Louis took us out for lunch!”

Harry looks into the fridge with plenty of vegetables and chickens. There’s fruit that looks like it hasn’t been touched for at least a week and there’s a carton of milk in the exact same spot with the exact same amount in it as the last time Harry was here.

“We can’t go out for lunch. You have too many vegetables here, silly.”

“No,” Noor pouts burying her head in her hands.

“It will be yummy, I promise. Why don’t you help me?”

Lunch is quite an affair. Harry digs up pie crust from the bottom of the freezer which he uses to line a pie pan. He leaves Noor to whisk eggs and shred cheese while he finely chops the withering vegetables. The quiche cooks nicely and Noor forces Harry to take a picture of her with a big toothy grin.

Harry takes a big bite of too hot quiche and ends up burning his tongue. Noor laughs hysterically as Harry fans his mouth and seeks out his glass of water. She’s laughing so hard she’s choking on her spit, clutching her tummy.

“Thought I heard you,” Zayn says from behind Harry and it takes him completely off guard. He’s in a pair of joggers with necklaces around his neck and nothing else on. It wouldn’t have been surprising to see him like this a week ago, but after the silent treatment and Harry finding out about his relationship with Louis, he’s bitter as hell and annoyed.

Zayn slings an arm around Harry’s shoulders and leans in for a kiss on Harry’s cheek. It’s not completely out of the ordinary, but Noor isn’t enraptured in her food like she normally is nor is Harry in the mood for this.

“Hey,” Harry greets. He shovels another piece of quiche in his mouth that thankfully doesn’t burn his throat raw.

“How’s it going? Missed you.”

“Yeah?” Harry challenges. He rolls his eyes so Zayn knows how serious he really is.

“S’everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect. Right, Noor?” Harry holds his hand up for a fist bump and makes an exploding sound when their knuckles collide. “See?”

Zayn eyes Harry suspiciously for a moment before nodding. “Mind if I eat?”

“Don’t care.”

“Wha-”

“Do you want to climb some trees after lunch, Noor?”

With a mouth full of egg and cheese and a plethora of veggies, Noor screams, “Yeah!” so loudly egg goes flying out of her mouth and lands on the counter two centimeters short of Harry’s plate.

He snorts so hard that quiche gets caught in his nasal passage. They descend into a pile of giggles and clutch their sides for so long that Harry doesn’t even register Zayn’s bedroom door slamming.

\---

Liam confronts him two days later.

Harry hastily closes his journal and slips it under his pillow just as Liam lies down on the outside of the bed.

“You alright?” Liam combs a hand through the ends of Harry’s hair with a look of concern.

“M’just in my own head lately,” Harry sighs.

“You’re in a right bloody mood.” When Harry hums and offers no further commentary, Liam flops an arm over Harry’s waist. “I can tell. We should have a movie night for the three of us with beers and that new movie with Andrew Garfield.”

“Yeah. Is that on Netflix now?”

“No, but Niall can find a link or something. What about after work tomorrow, hmm? We can get Niall to bring nachos from work.”

“Yes please.”

Liam strokes up and down Harry’s spine for a couple more heartbeats before kissing the side of his head and getting up.

“Thanks for cheering me up Leemo. I love you best.”

“Love you best, even when you’re a grumpy shit.”

\---

There are ten minutes until Harry can go home, take a shower, and walk down to Niall’s with Liam. There are ten more minutes of entertaining Noor before leaving her with Zayn. There are ten more minutes until Harry doesn’t have to hear him play the piano or frustratingly chuck things at the wall when he can’t write a line. Ten minutes until his day off. Sixteen days until him and Noor are gone and out of his life forever.

At least he’ll miss one of them.

So of course, when there are only four more minutes, Zayn comes out of his bedroom and asks Noor to clean up her tea party.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Can talk right here,” Harry shrugs, desperately wishing that Zayn doesn’t see through his impassive façade.

“Would rather do it somewhere more private.”

They end up going back to Zayn’s room and Harry hates how the unmade bed makes his heart clench as all the memories of their last night together come flooding back to him.

“What?” Harry asks moodily.

“Don’t – fuck, don’t be like this. I don’t understand why you’re being like this.”

“I’m not being anything Zayn! You’re the one who just-”

Zayn doesn’t miss a beat. He steps into Harry’s bubble the slightest amount. Harry’s pulse speeds up and his mouth dries up. His eyes search for every freckle and mole on Zayn’s face before he shuts his eyes painfully.

“Just what Harry?”

“Just ignored me for a week!” It’s much too loud with Noor in the suite with them. “It was so easy for you to toss me aside once we fucked, hey? Did you get enough material for your song? Did you stay up late with Louis and laugh about me before you let him fuck you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Louis and I don’t fuck and we never have. You’re so jealous, I’m not doing this with you.”

“Jealous?” Harry laughs strictly to be cruel. “You think I’m jealous of him? I’m pissed off Zayn! You can’t treat people this way. You can’t just use them and then leave them once they give you what you want.”

“That’s not what I’m doing! Louis was here for a week and-”

“And I could have hung out with you both. I could have done my fucking job and watched Noor or just had some beers with you.” Harry takes a step back until his head clears and his pulse slows. He has never liked confrontation and this is no different. “You didn’t have to freeze me out of your life.”

“I sent you a picture of Noor and you didn’t respond.”

“What was I supposed to say Zayn? We spent almost every day together for four weeks and then when you’re friend visits you ignore me? Is this how you treat all your fucks?”

“Stop saying it like that.” Zayn brushes a hand through his hair and glares at Harry. “You know you’re more than that.”

“I’m Noor’s nanny Zayn. I don’t know what you celebrity types do, but normal employers don’t fuck their kid’s nanny.”

“I understand that, God just shut up for a minute.”

Harry considers fleeing. The afternoon is still young and he’s got his lad’s night with Liam and Niall to get ready for. He can call his mum and have a chat with her before he’s got to go and they can talk about mindless pleasantries and ignore the fact that his contract is up in a few short weeks and he doesn’t want to permanently move home.

“We had a really good summer together Harry. I’ve never had a summer this great in my life and I spent last summer travelling America and Asia.” Harry scoffs. “Don’t do that. Don’t – don’t try to ruin it or minimalize it.”

“M’not,” Harry mutters petulantly.

“You are. What did you think was going to happen when I went back to real life? That we were going to keep seeing each other?”

It stings more than it should. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“Well who’s fault was that? We have to be realistic, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.” Zayn seizes the moment when Harry hesitates. “Stay tonight? We’ll chat while Noor takes a nap then we can have dinner and sort everything out.”

Harry shakes his head. He’s got to see Liam and Niall. He’s done being a negligent friend and he’s certainly not wasting anymore time over Zayn.

“Please,” Zayn asks, taking one of Harry’s hands in his. “You mean a lot to me and I don’t want this to go unresolved.”

“Fine.” Harry’s going to regret it later. He already knows about the massive shit storm he’s in with Niall and Liam, but hopefully a text can smooth it out and they can plan it for another night. “But I want wine with dinner and you’re cooking.”

\---

They don’t talk while Noor naps. They make out on the couch and rut against each other like dogs in heat. Harry’s panting heavily, gripping at Zayn’s shirt and yanking like it’s the only thing holding him down. The screen door is wide open and refreshing breezes tumble through the blinds to cool them off.

“Fucking missed you,” Zayn moans. He pops open the front of Harry’s jeans with practiced ease and slides his hand between Harry’s jeans and underpants. He runs a finger over Harry’s hole and it sends a shiver racking his body. “Lou told me he saw you at a club,” Zayn tells him. He removes his hand and flips them until Harry’s flat on his back. “Said you were all over this blond dude and you were gonna take him home.”

“I was.” Zayn grunts and kisses Harry harder. It bruises his lips. Harry pulls away panting. “You sound jealous.”

“I am.”

Harry hates how it’s so easy for Zayn to say his feelings. He’s a rich celebrity who can get anything he wants with a show of his teeth. Harry absolutely hates how easy he is for it.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of you dancing with someone else; touching someone else. I was about to go to the club and take you home myself.”

“Why didn’t you?” Harry lifts Zayn’s shirt up and over his head.

“Lou texted me and said that you left.”

“Stop calling him Lou,” Harry whines.

Zayn smirks down at Harry, baiting him. “Now who’s jealous?”

“Not me that’s for fucking sure.”

Zayn pushes up until he’s in a press up position above Harry. His chest and shoulders look impeccable and his abs are shaking with how hard he’s panting. “S’okay,” Zayn says slyly, up to something. “You’ll always be my babes.”

Like a cord being cut, Harry shoots upwards and clutches Zayn. He wraps his arms around Zayn’s shoulders and tugs him in until they’re one. They’re not even properly kissing, just a messy collection of teeth and tongue and lips trying to consume each other.

“I hate how you make me feel so fucking crazy,” Harry moans.

“S’mutual.” Zayn laughs, smiling into their kiss for their first time all night.

Harry laughs into Zayn’s lips; lightheaded and happy.

\---

“Oh so you do know how to work a phone.”

Harry’s head snaps up at the sound of Liam’s agitated voice.

“Oh fuck,” Harry gasps, holding his heart with the hand not clutching his phone. Liam’s leaning against the counter with the light above the oven on. He’s got an open plaid shirt over his boxers and his eyes are a bit red. He probably smoked up a bit with Niall. “You scared the shit out of me Liam.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Harry slips his phone into his pocket, disregarding the newly composed text to Zayn. “I have the day off tomorrow, Liam.”

“That’s exactly why we planned a lad’s night tonight. Or do you not remember?”

“Oh shit,” Harry groans. “Liam-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Liam, let me explain.”

Liam shakes his head and grabs his water bottle off the counter. Liam manages five angry, thumping steps until he whirls around, “You have no clue what’s going on in my life. I leave in under three weeks and we’ve spent no time together.”

Stunned, Harry’s left speechless.

“And you don’t spend time with Niall either. Did you even know that Niall wants to freeze his contract and come visit me in England? We want to go to Ireland together and we want you to come with us but you’ll never leave this bloody island. It’s exhausting waiting for you to text me back or waiting for you to even come home at night.”

“I never asked you to wait.”

“That’s what friends do Harry.” Liam shrugs like there’s nothing left to say and Harry knows that there isn’t.

He’s royally fucked up with both Liam and Niall and watching his best mate walk into his room and shut the door quietly – not loud or downright angry – makes Harry realize what an awful person he has been.

\---

With the silent treatment from both Niall and Liam, Harry throws himself in activities with the Malik’s. They go to Dolphin Discovery with Harry this time and Noor is camera-happy as she clicks photos all day long. They play jump rope and Zayn dips his feet in the pool while Noor and Harry swim back and forth. Harry’s tan deepens and Zayn gets tan lines on his thighs that Harry runs his tongue along when they’re holed up for the night.

His days are filled with mango smoothies and sweet potato chips; cold kisses from Zayn after eating a tub of ice cream together and bedtime stories being read to Noor. Harry falls asleep with an arm around his waist and lip imprints on the back of his neck. He wakes up to soft snores and a dick poking into the back of his thigh.

Harry stretches Zayn’s shirts when he wears them and sends Zayn flirty winks. There are cheeky arse grabs and subtle spoon licks when Noor’s turned the other way. Harry feels young and sexy and wanted and if he focuses his attention on Zayn and Noor and his job then he can ignore the ache in his chest when he sees Liam working attentively at the bar or passes by the outside of Niall’s work.

\---

“Baba. Baaaaa-baaa.”

Harry blinks awake slowly. He sucks in a breath as he rolls onto his front and revels in the cool feeling of the bed.

“Baba, oh-”

Noor is half an inch from his face. She’s wearing the same expression as when Harry got back from the bathroom and she was perched on the counter with her hand stuffed down the container of Oreos.

“Why are you in my baba’s bed?”

“Um,” Harry starts, rubbing away the sleep in his eyes. “Baba and I had a sleepover.”

“And you didn’t invite me?” Noor asks. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth.

Harry pushes her chaotic bedhead from her eyes. “You were asleep.” He tries to remember if Zayn and him had time to put on boxers and change the sheets after they shagged all night. He remembers Zayn tossing a clean pair of boxers at his head, but he’s not sure if he stripped the bed before they crawled in together.

“Let me ask baba if you can come up, okay?” Noor nods warily and Harry holds the bedsheet down as he rolls over. He kisses Zayn’s jaw, the easiest way to wake him up. “Zayn,” Harry hisses. “Zayn.” Harry pinches Zayn’s hip and after a half-second Zayn jolts awake.

“Hey,” he grins, leaning in with a look like he wants to devour Harry.

Gingerly, Harry puts his hand on Zayn’s chest. “Noor wants to know if she can come before breakfast.” Lower, he adds, “Did you change the sheets.”

“Of course-”

“Yay!” Noor gives a mighty cheer as she hops onto the bed. She lands with her knee digging into Harry’s thigh and topples over him. She crawls under the covers faster than Harry’s ever seen her move and fits herself between Zayn and Harry’s chests.

She closes her eyes as her eyelashes kiss her cheekbones. She’s so startlingly beautiful that Harry can see what she looks like at ten, fifteen, twenty. He can picture what she’ll look like in a year with longer hair and more freckles scattered about her skin. Harry can picture her grinning for her first primary school photo. He can picture her coming home with a muddy football kit or a perfect fitting tutu. He sees sporting events and parent teacher interviews; packing school lunches and giving her hugs when she comes home from school in an adorable black and green checkered uniform.

“I had a scary dream.”

“You did?” Harry rubs her back, Zayn having fallen back to sleep on her other side. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t want to go home.”

Harry scoops under Noor and moves her so she can grip a fist around his necklace. “Baba has a job remember. It’s very important.”

“So you can come with us.”

“I can’t angel.”

Noor’s eyes get cloudy. She gnaws on her bottom lip again and Harry removes it with his thumb. He collects her tiny tears with his thumb and presses a kiss to her forehead with so much love poured into it that his heart aches.

If Harry was the protagonist in a young adult novel – those shitty love stories that Gemma would keep in the loo and Harry would read when he would be taking a crap and getting bored – he would fall asleep after Noor’s breaths steady and she no longer shakes with each inhale. They would wake up and Harry would make pancakes and turkey bacon while Noor twirled in the living room with Zayn singing for them. Harry would kiss Zayn with Noor at their heels and the scene would transform to one of them doing the same thing in a London flat with a dog jumping at their knees and yapping for attention. They would adopt three more children and Harry would sit with them at a round table while they applauded and cried while Zayn accepted an award on stage and thanked the most important people in his life. Zayn would kiss Harry when he sat back down and it would be blown up on the jumbo screen and his fellow singers and songwriters would be cheering them on. Harry would call his mum regularly and see Gemma and her child every week. He would go grocery shopping with the kids and pretend that he had enough time in the day to give Zayn a long, appreciative blow job in the quiet of the night.

But that isn’t Harry’s life and he’s faced with the reality of waking up tomorrow and having the two people he cares for the most leave him.

\---

As the sun sets, deep gold blends the ocean to the sky in Anguilla. Birds dip low to the water and skim it with their webbed feet before turning to the clouds and flying upwards. There are sailboats and canoes in the ocean and Harry’s always enjoyed watching the people and making up stories of what they’re talking or thinking about in that particular moment. He likes to imagine couples on their honeymoons or siblings bonding over rowing a canoe together and –

Noor wails in the kitchen as bloodcurdlingly as she had the first time he had stepped foot into their suite. She’s clutching onto the ends of Harry’s hair and his shirt for purchase as fat tears stream down her soft cheeks. She can barely breathe with how hard she’s crying and Harry wishes that he was stronger because his own eyes are watering. He bounces her on his arm and thinks about how soothing his mum was and how he’s the complete opposite. It’s too choppy and awkward with the way Noor’s blubbering into his neck.

He sends a worried glance to Zayn who’s standing behind Noor and smoothing her hair. He looks just as frazzled as Harry feels.

“You’re not leaving until tomorrow darling,” Harry whispers, but there’s an ugly voice in the back of his head hissing, reminding him that there is actually only eleven hours until they leave. Five if he factors in the fact that Zayn will need sleep before their car picks them up in the morning.

“I don’t want to go,” Noor sobs. It’s barely audible between her tears.

“We’ll have breakfast when you wake up. I’ll drive you and baba to the airport tomorrow and you can give me plenty of hugs and kisses.”

Noor smacks her lips against Harry’s before burying her face in his neck. She mumbles something before hiccupping into another fit of tears and Harry has to physically hold her away from him so he can make sure she’s alright.

“You’ve got to calm down for us.”

They had a long day of fun in the sun and Noor tried escargot for the first time with a disgusted expression. She hadn’t had a nap so they put her down early and cracked open a bottle of expensive wine in Zayn’s bed. It wasn’t until they were getting bored of the television programme they were watching that Noor made her grand entrance with a stuffed animal clutched in her hand and tears pouring from her eyes.

“We can Skype Harry every day and you can call him just like you call mummy. Whenever you miss him.”

“Whenever you want, okay? I’ll always pick up for you.”

“Do you promise?” Noor asks wide-eyed and watery.

“Pinky,” Harry holds up his pinky and Noor shakes it delicately. Pins and needles prickle his arm as he keeps rocking her. “Do you want to cuddle with us?”

Noor wipes her eyes and says “Yeah,” so adorably that Harry tears up again.

“S’okay meri jaan.” Zayn sounds a bit like he’s teasing her, but Harry knows that underneath he’s just as torn up from seeing his daughter cry.

“M’tired.”

“Think you’re all cried up. Do you think you can drink some water before bedtime?”

Noor nods and doesn’t let go of Harry as he navigates around the kitchen with her on his hip. Zayn goes into his room first and has the bed sheets pulled up to his neck.

“Want to hear a bedtime story?” Zayn asks, rearranging Noor’s nightgown. Harry has always hated the way jeans feel when he’s under a duvet, but he disregards it to focus all his attention on Noor. “Think Harry can tell us one?”

“Yeah? What do you want to hear?”

Noor hums. “Do you have any siblings?”

“I have an older sister named Gemma.”

Noor cuddles into Harry’s stomach. “Is she beautiful?”

“The most beautiful besides you,” Harry bops her nose and feels his heart swell when she giggles. “She’s a bit older than your baba and she’s going to have a baby very soon.”

“Can I meet her?”

Zayn catches his eye over her head and blinks. He looks like a frightened animal. “As soon as I come visit you, we’ll go see her.”

“Good. And you can come visit daada and daadi and meet my aunties.”

Zayn finds Harry’s hand where it rests on Noor’s hip and tangles their fingers together. He looks right at Zayn when he says, “I’d love to.”

Noor drops off after Harry kisses her hair one last time. Harry savours a couple of minutes of breathing her in and committing the feel of the three of them in their own bubble before he picks her up and tucks her into her own bed.

Without his permission, his fingers trace her nose, her cheekbones, and the round shell of her ears. She looks so peaceful even though her eyes are swollen and her nose is still tinted red. The last three months have flown by and it’s hard to think about what he would have given up had he rejected this position and continued to bartend.

“Alright?” Zayn asks. He’s bent over his suitcase tucking his rolled up jeans into an open spot. He’s not wearing anything but his rings and looks unashamed that he’s half hard. Slow music plays from the radio that Zayn’s phone is hooked up to and Harry pretends he doesn’t recognize the Frank Ocean tune in the background.

“Not really,” Harry admits. He wraps his arms around Zayn’s shoulders and pulls them together.

“Me neither.” Zayn cups the back of Harry’s necks and brings their foreheads to touch like he always does. It’s calming and centering and Harry breathes in what Zayn exhales. “You could always come with us.”

Harry pretends like he hasn’t entertained that idea on sleepless nights. “You’re the one who said we should have a bit of fun until you left.”

“We are. Fun can be serious.”

Harry shakes his head and takes a step back. Zayn instinctively follows him. “Don’t do this to me. You don’t know how hard this is for me.”

“I’m not trying to do anything but make this easier for us. We need you.”

“Zayn-”

“M’not trying to be a dick. I-”

“Stop. Please, c’mon. Don’t ruin this for us.”

Zayn skims his fingers down Harry’s arm until their wrapped around Harry’s wrist, the other holding onto his hip so tight it could leave marks. “Promise to be here when we wake up.”

Harry swallows and nods, drops his chin to his chest because he can’t bare the look Zayn gives him. “Of course.”

Zayn undresses Harry slowly and without the distraction of clinging to Zayn’s belt loops or undoing any buttons, Harry feels horribly on display. It’s like his insides are exposed and his treacherous heart is revealing everything he has to offer. They kiss like they have the rest of their lives and touch like they’re exploring each other’s bodies for the first time.

Harry’s cheeks burn when Zayn straddles Harry’s hips and looks at him like he holds all the stars in the universe.

“C’mon.” Harry coaxes him closer until Zayn’s leaning over him properly. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, running a finger down his chest to tweak one of his nipples. “Was thinking you could fuck me instead.”

Harry shakes his head and kisses Zayn’s lips until they’re swollen. Distantly there’s music crooning in the background and the wide open window has a breeze passing through it that is cool enough to dry their tacky skin. “Please.”

Zayn knocks his hips against Harry’s like he can’t control it. Precome smears against Harry’s thigh at the promise and Harry wants to feel it all – feel it raw. He’s not done it that way for ages; since his last serious partner was ages ago and the string of one night-ers and casual daters never reached that level.

It’s been so long since Harry has had a constant someone in his life that the absence of Zayn will be even more prominent when he’s gone. Only three more days with Liam and four weeks by himself until his term is up and he’s done forever; leaving Niall and Marti and the rest of the beautiful island behind.

He hasn’t talked to Zayn about whether he’s staying in England or going to America or if he’s going on another massive world tour because talking about anything pertaining to the future or where they’ll be feels overwhelming. Now, Harry wishes he knew where Zayn would be because he has this dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach that this is the last time he’ll see Zayn. That these are the last few tender moments they’ll have together.

“Hey.” Zayn pecks the tip of Harry’s nose and smiles so vividly Harry’s heart clenches. “You look fucking amazing.”

“You’re an idiot,” Harry says, but he still blushes.

“You do,” Zayn insists, kissing under Harry’s jaw. He arches his back and puts his arse on display. No part of his body is touching Harry’s and it’s the worst kind of ache. “You’re so sexy.”

“Stop,” Harry laughs when Zayn’s beard scrapes against the middle of Harry’s chest. He takes one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth and nips at it until he’s gasping and squirming.

Zayn hums against Harry’s belly button. Harry throws his hands above his head and digs his heels into the bed. “So sexy.”

It sounds corny and pornographic, but Zayn’s sultry voice and the look he’s giving Harry from under his long, long lashes is startling. “No one says that,” Harry whines. He’s hot all over and wound up.

“I say that.” Zayn kisses each of Harry’s hips before sucking a bruise just above Harry’s neatly trimmed pubic hair. He makes a show of licking the tip of Harry’s cock. It’s obscene how his tongues swipes at Harry’s precome, catching the underside with his tongue before sucking him down his throat. Zayn pulls off as soon as Harry hits the back of his throat, but he perseveres.

“Christ.”

Zayn hums and digs his thumbs into the juncture of Harry’s groin. Harry anchors himself into the mattress as Zayn sucks him. His mouth is tight and wet and he’s making these wet sounds that Harry can barely hear over the sound of his own moans and the music that’s playing Marvin Gaye. Harry would laugh at the song choice if he wasn’t getting his brains sucked out of his dick.

He watches Zayn’s head bob for a couple more painful seconds before Harry scratches at his scalp. “M’ready.”

Zayn laughs and shakes his head. “I haven’t even fingered you.”

“Don’t need it.”

“You do.”

Zayn crawls up the bed, kissing Harry’s belly button on the way, and reaches into the drawer of the nightstand. When he turns back around, Harry rolls onto his side so he’s facing Zayn.

“Make it quick then,” Harry pleads. He rolls onto his side so he’s facing Zayn. His cock curves against his stomach and he wraps his hand around the base of his dick loosely. “Can we do it like this though?”

Zayn stretches out in front of him, a bottle of lube already tucked in the palm of his hand. It’s intimate like that. Zayn can’t quite see what he’s doing. Harry has a leg slung around Zayn’s hips; their cocks lined up so they brush together when Zayn fingers him. Harry starts rocking his hips when Zayn’s got two fingers knuckle deep. He can feel one of Zayn’s rings bumping against his hole and it takes everything in him not to straddle Zayn and hump him until they come.

“Babes,” Zayn whispers, kissing Harry’s eyelids until he flutters them open.

“Ready now,” Harry announces, sweaty and needy.

“How do you want it?” Harry flips over so his arse is lined up with Zayn’s crotch. Zayn laughs behind him, but it’s not unkindly. “You want to spoon?”

“Mhmm,” Harry feels around behind him until he can grab Zayn’s arse. He runs his hand down his leg until Zayn’s got a leg wrapped around Harry. Harry grinds back on Zayn until the tip of Zayn’s dick catches on his arse and Harry tries to chase the feeling. “S’gonna be so deep.”

“Yeah?” Zayn tugs on Harry’s dick.

Harry closes his eyes to better concentrate on Zayn entering him. He’s got a condom on and he wishes for a selfish moment that they didn’t have the precaution between them and Zayn could come in his arse and lick it out after. But that’s not them – they’re a summer fling that will be over in just a few hours.

He puts the thought to the back of his mind as Zayn grunts in his ear. He circles his hips back when Zayn’s finally pressed against him and the moan he lets out is so loud he has to turn his face into the pillow so he can muffle it.

“Holy fuck,” Zayn gasps. He scoops his hips and rocks them forward on the bed. Teeth sink into Harry’s shoulder and a shiver rolls through him. Zayn’s nails dig into Harry’s hips, rough and blunt.

Harry grapples at the sheets. Zayn jackhammers his hips like an uncontrollable teenager, licking and biting and panting against Harry’s shoulder. He’s so fucking close to the edge all he needs is for Zayn to come and he’ll follow in an instant, he knows.

He tries to hold himself in a solid position, but with every thrust from Zayn he’s sent further and further into the bed until Harry’s on his stomach and Zayn’s on top of him. It’s animalistic the way they move together with Zayn balancing himself on Harry’s shoulders and Harry’s helpless but to claw at the sheets and try to focus on the way his dick brushes against the sheets and wets them with his precome.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Harry tells him, arching his back as much as he can.

“Want this to last.”

Zayn pulls out and Harry whimpers pathetically. He’s never felt so empty in his life as Zayn draws away from him, but then he feels gentle fingers on his shoulder guiding him until he’s on his back. He spreads his legs and watches Zayn enter him.

They’re unusually quiet, sharing kisses and breaths and reverent touches. Zayn’s not said anything for a while and it worries Harry with how intense Zayn looks. His eyebrows are scrunched and the look in his eye is so sharp that Harry’s nervous to break the silence between them.

“Everything okay?”

“You’re so good with Noor,” Zayn whispers against his cheek. He turns his face and kisses Harry so thoroughly that he almost forgets to question what Zayn’s just said.

“What?” Harry asks, a bit in disbelief.

“Noor, you’re so good with her.”

“Why are you thinking about that while you’re fucking me?” Harry digs his fingers into Zayn’s ribs and laughs delightedly when Zayn smiles brighter than the fucking sun.

“Just thinking about you.”

Harry cups Zayn’s cheeks and squishes them together until his cheeks are chubby around his lips. He hauls himself up with the rest of his energy and kisses Zayn noisily. “You’re so dumb.”

Harry feels loose and happy and like he could come any moment with Zayn licking into his mouth and fucking him so thoroughly that he feels it in his toes. He’s never thought much about the word pounding, but right now it’s the only thing that comes to mind.

A mantra of Zayn’s name falls from his lips with every thrust and jolt and he swears if the bed wasn’t made of the highest quality, they would be breaking the frame and smashing the headboard into the wall.

It feels like more than a goodbye and it hurts Harry’s heart to know that what they have is so strong and unspoken. He’ll miss more than just the sex – he’ll miss breakfasts and beach days and watching Noor colour. He’ll miss eavesdropping on Zayn singing in the shower and Noor getting excited about feeding Harry plastic corn on the cob from her toy kitchen. He’ll miss cuddling with Noor on her special rug and hoisting her onto his hip like she was made to fit there.

“Don’t stop,” Harry huffs into Zayn’s collarbone. He’s sweaty and his hair is absolutely everywhere on the pillows below his head. He’s stuck to the sheet with sweat and there’s come on his stomach from how much he’s leaking.

“Fuck,” Zayn hangs his head, jolting his hips at an uneven rhythm as he spills into the condom. He wraps his hand around Harry and he’s coming before Zayn’s even finished.

They take gasping breaths. Zayn doesn’t say anything as he pulls out and reaches over to shut off the music. Harry pops his spine as he stretches and draws lazy patterns through the come on his stomach. He slips his fingers into Zayn’s mouth before they share a kiss. Harry doesn’t know what to say.

“Shower?” Zayn suggests.

They fall into their ritual of Zayn changing the sheets while Harry showers and when Zayn joins him when he’s halfway finished rinsing out his conditioner, they’re too spent to do anything frisky. The duvet is cold when they slip into the sheets starkers and curl up around each other. Harry revels in the way Zayn makes him feel protected in his arms.

\---

Zayn does this thing in his sleep where he makes these tiny little snores. They’re a bit higher pitched than Harry’s own and they’re not quite as loud. He mumbles in his sleep as well and his hold around Harry goes lax. Harry has known all of this since the first time he woke up in Zayn’s bed and slipped out easily enough to get a start on breakfast.

He uses the same carefulness he had the first morning, to slip out of Zayn’s bed at half four. He gathers what he can of his clothes and takes them into the kitchen area to change into.

He’s quick about it.

His pulse races as he struggles to get his jeans around the heel of his foot and it’s not until he’s tugging his shirt over his head that he hears the bedroom door snick shut.

“So this is it, huh?” Zayn spits.

Harry goes through a mixture of shame and anger. How dare Zayn ruin his escape? This was supposed to be easier for the both of them – the three of them.

“You’re not going to say anything?” He’s keeping his voice quiet for the sake of Noor, Harry knows. He wishes Zayn would yell at him. He’d sound angrier, less hurt, Harry’s sure.

“I was just-”

“Shut up,” Zayn hisses. He takes a step towards Harry looking more menacing than someone in a pair of boxers and sleep rumpled hair has the right to. “You don’t get to try to justify this. You were just going to what? Walk out? You promised Noor breakfast. You promised her a goodbye. You promised me a goodbye.”

“I can’t do it,” Harry says, but it sounds more like he’s begging Zayn to stop.

“Do you think you’re the only one that this is hard for?” It’s only then that Harry notices that he’s got something in his hand. He can’t see it too well in the darkness of the kitchen, but it looks like a black binder. Harry hopes it’s not the contract he signed. “This is going to crush her.”

“I-”

“She made you this.” Zayn thrusts the binder at Harry. He doesn’t even have the heart to do anything other than stare at the cover, glitter pens doodled around a selfie of Harry and Noor at the pool, their cheeks smooshed together smiling happily. “She didn’t want a toy or a new dress with all of her stickers. She’s been spending every night for the past couple of weeks making you this and writing you letters so you don’t miss her, but it’s not like you care, right? You’re gonna fucking run! Just like you ran from England because you didn’t want to have adult responsibilities.” Harry hates the way Zayn’s thrown that back in his face. He shakes his head and feels anger and sadness, regret at how they’re acting towards each other. “I should have known you were going to leave because you ‘can’t do it.’” Zayn uses air quotes as he mimics Harry. It hurts more than it should.

“You know I care about the both of you.”

Zayn snorts and it punches all the air out of Harry’s lungs. He’s not a bad guy, he’s not a bad guy – but it’s hard to convince yourself of that when you’re the biggest villain in the room. “I fucking care about _you_ Harry, Jesus Christ. I told you more shit than I told the therapist they got to accompany me on tour last year-”

“Zayn-” Harry interrupts because well, he didn’t know that.

“You’re a fucker Harry. You screwed me over like everyone does and I can’t believe I fell for your act for one minute.”

“Zayn-”

“Just go!” Zayn booms and it’s too loud. His eyes go wide and Harry’s mirror them. “Fuck, just leave us alone.”

And it’s that – the overwhelming sadness and despair in Zayn’s voice – how he sounds like he’s four seconds from crying and punching Harry in the balls all at once that has Harry nodding silently and turning around with his shoes in one hand and his homemade scrapbook in the other. He shuts the door as quietly as he can and doesn’t wait to hear if Zayn locks it behind him.

He turns off his phone and numbly walks back to his dorm. He doesn’t look at the scrapbook once – the weight of it too heavy in his hands.

It’s second nature to slip into Liam’s bed and he does it without hesitation. He’s crying before he knows it; fat, ugly, silent sobs that wrack his body. He knows Liam’s awake from the way he scoots away from Harry and throws an arm around his waist to pull him closer to the middle of the bed. It’s a silent forgiveness, but Harry’s not quite ready to tell him all the things he’s sorry for.

\---

Harry wakes up to Liam sitting on the edge of the bed with a steaming cup of tea on the bedside table and puffy eyes that sting.

“I already called Niall and he’s coming over. Are you going to tell us what this is about?”

Harry nods and accepts the tea. His throat feels raw and his eyes glued shut. He has no idea what time it is, but he’s confident that Zayn’s kilometers high in the air.

“I have a feeling it’s not about me leaving in three days.”

“Of course it is.”

“M’not dense Harry,” Liam says and there it is again. Sometimes Harry hates how good of a person Liam is. He hates that Liam let Harry slip into his bed and cry until he passed out from exhaustion. He hates that Liam made him tea after he has clearly been for a run and he hates that Liam is willing to put aside the bullshit Harry caused because he’s upset.

Niall brings bacon and eggs and hash browns with chili powder sprinkled on them. He slathers it with maple syrup and they eat in Liam’s bed. Liam gives him these wary looks every couple of minutes and Harry can’t help but feel like he’s been put under a microscope.

“I was sleeping with him,” Harry mumbles.

To his surprise, neither Niall nor Liam seem particularly surprised by this. They share a look between the two before wrapping him up in a hug.

“And I really fucking liked him and Noor and I fucked it all up. I love Noor, I love – I fucked it all up.”

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Harry tells Liam and Niall everything. From the first time Zayn kissed him innocently in his kitchen to the disastrous morning they had. If Liam and Niall disapprove, they don’t show it. They try to reassure him that he didn’t do anything wrong. He knows it’s not true though despite all of their cuddling and reassurances. Harry knows this isn’t like the bed time stories that he and Zayn told Noor.

He’s not promised a happy ending.

\---

Liam allows Harry to wallow for the rest of the day. They eat rubbish food; pizza and popcorn with butter and loads of salt. They drink beer well into the night until Harry’s drunk and crying on Liam’s shoulder while Rachel McAdams pushes Ryan Gosling into the side of his pickup truck.

Harry wakes up in his own bed in his shirt and boxers with his socks half on. Liam’s standing over him with a mug of strong tea and a chocolate filled croissant. Powdered sugar dusts the top of the pastry and clings to Harry’s upper lip when he takes a massive bite.

“We’re going surfing today,” Liam tells him once Harry has swallowed.

“No we are not.”

“I’m here for two more days and we’re not spending it watching anymore sad movies.”

“But Liam, I’m heart broken,” Harry gestures to the croissant. “And last time you tried to teach me how to surf I almost drowned.”

“You were trying to flirt with the lifeguard.”

Harry shrugs, popping the last of the croissant into his mouth.

“Can we get froyo after?”

Liam huffs like he’s put off, but there’s an undeniable smile fighting his lips.

—

“Then this maaaassive wave came up Ni! Like, fifty feet wasn’t it Li!? Fifty fucking feet Ni, I’m telling you. Knocked Liam right over and I had to rescue him. I nearly had to give him mouth-to-mouth.”

“Sit the fuck down, you’re so drunk.”

“I LOVE margaritas!”

Liam yanks Harry by the shirt until he’s sat back in the booth. They’re at one of the pool bars on the far side of the resort. They’ve been exploiting the fact that Niall’s been sleeping with one of the girls that works there and that she’s been topping off their drinks before they even finish.

“It was like, the smallest ripple and you were only kneeling when it knocked _you_ over.” Liam flicks Harry’s ear while Niall cackles.

“Fuck, I’m gonna miss this craic.”

“You’re visiting us a week after Harry comes home. You won’t even have time to miss us.”

Niall smiles, but it’s glassy. “Can’t fucking wait.” He ruffles Harry’s hair across the table then pulls Liam in by his collar to smack a kiss to his forehead. “Me and Haz are gonna fuck up this island once you’re gone. Shag our way through every bar, every night.” He fist bumps Harry and winks.

Harry grins, passing his phone from hand to hand under the table. He’s gotten a message from Gemma telling him that she told their mum about the baby. Other than that, Harry’s phone has remained silent.

He’s thought about deleting the conversation thread he has had with Zayn, but all of the pictures - of Noor, of _them_ , of Zayn lying in bed, edited lamely in black and white smouldering at the camera - are too good to give up. It would feel like erasing a chapter of his life that he’s not ready to give up yet. He has Noor’s scrapbook, but the thought of looking at it or even peering inside to see what she’s written makes his heart hurt so badly that he had to ask Liam to hide it somewhere in their room.

“Cheer up Harry,” Liam encourages. He squeezes Harry’s knee under the table and they let it go.

—

Harry jolts awake gasping.

His muscles feel sore and his stomach burns as if he’s just thrown up. The sheets are damp beneath his stomach, though when he feels around he notes that it’s sweat, not puke, covering the bed.

It’s dark and unforgiving outside. Not a drop of sunlight is present. Harry’s groggy and perhaps still drunk if the lethargy weighing him down is anything to go by.

He stumbles his way to the kitchen and after drinking a large glass of cool water, he pisses.

The light is sharp in the dead of night. Harry takes a long look at himself in the mirror. There are bags under his eyes and a permanent frown on his face. He’s tired, guilty, and he misses sharing a bed.

Zayn never spent the night in Harry’s bed - hell, he never stepped foot in Harry’s building - but Harry swears when he closes his eyes that night, all he can smell is Zayn.

—

“No more,” Harry pleads. He sets the empty shot glass on the coffee table and curls his arms around his shins. “I can’t believe we’re drinking again.”

“Last night was just a warm up,” Niall laughs. “We’ve got to drive Leemo to the airport at 5 tomorrow morning and if he’s not hungover the entire flight, what’s the point?”

“There’s lots of points,” Liam says, but he giggles at the end so it’s a moot point.

“I don’t feel good-”

“So go puke and come back. You’re not leaving until you do a sweeping rendition of Never Gonna Dance Again.”

Liam laughs and chases a shot of vodka with some cherry coke. “We should,” he burps, looking shocked at the noise, “we should make Haz take a shot for each of his tattoos.”

“There’s too many,” Harry argues. “Shut up.”

“ _You_ shut up.” Liam frowns at Harry and something fond and painful twists in his chest.

Drunk Liam comes in many forms. He’s loud and obnoxious sometimes; challenging Harry to darts or pool and teasing him until he quits and Liam reigns superior. There’s a drunk Liam who’s confident and sexts Sophia discreetly before running off to the loo to call her. Sometimes Liam gets deep and philosophical, but that’s mainly when he’s drinking whiskey and watching documentaries. Times like this though, when Liam is happy and smiley and all he does is laugh and grin and look like the young 22-year-old he is, are Harry’s favourite.

“Okay, who wants to sing some Cher?”

Karaoke turns into Dance Dance Revolution which Liam found in a bin at the beach. It was a bit clogged with sand and the cancel button doesn’t always work, but they’ve gotten a good enough use out of it.

Niall is hysterical; his face is red and his hair matted with sweat. He’s determined and focused in a way he hardly is and the competitiveness comes out when he starts throwing BBQ crisps at Liam’s back.

Liam is fluid and graceful. He’s mastered the feet so well that he improvises his arms. He claps for himself and looks surprised when his score is 100%.

Harry’s a damn mess. His noodle limbs and lack of coordination offer no assistance in following the arrows. He’s too drunk and the characters on the screen move too fast. He’s aware of Niall cackling in the back and he thinks maybe one of them may be filming him.

For a minute, he’s reminded of how Zayn had danced with Noor and him in his living room. Harry imagines Zayn trying to follow the instructions on the screen, and can practically hear Noor giggling in the background.

Harry shakes his head and brushes the thought aside with a double tap onto the up arrow.

\---

Days without Liam pass slow and boring. He resumes his job at the bar and spends more time golfing and tanning with Niall.

Harry books his flight to Heathrow a week before his contract is up. He’s got a new roommate named Mac who rearranges Liam’s room and keeps the door locked at all times. He’s tidy and watches television on the lowest volume and when he talks it’s with a South American lilt.

Which is why it’s curious when the usually reclusive Mac knocks on Harry’s door.

“This yours?” He asks, sticking his head into the doorway. He holds up the binder and Harry scrambles out of bed to get it.

He ignores the fact that he’s only in his boxers as he grabs the book and holds it to his chest. “Where did you find it?”

“It was behind my bedside table. I looked inside because-”

“Thanks,” Harry says quickly. He tries not to be rude and slam the door on him, but it’s hard.

He puts the scrapbook in the bottom of his suitcase and tries not to think about it.

He spends more time with Niall watching _Breaking Bad_ than doing anything else. He doesn’t think about the book weighing heavy in his suitcase or worry about getting a phone call from Zayn. After the first week with zero contact, he’s accepted the fact that everything between them is long over.

Niall and him drink less and work more and when it’s time for Harry to leave, Niall plays his guitar and sings while Harry packs his bag.

There are fewer tears when Harry leaves than when Liam had, but Niall’s visiting them in less than two weeks.

“It’s a see you later,” Niall laughs, but his own eyes are wet.

Harry keeps his arms locked around Niall’s neck. “I won’t even miss you,” Harry weeps.

“Who are you again?”

Harry shoves Niall until they’re red faced and laughing, clutching at each other in the middle of the departures section of the airport.

\--

Gemma’s definitely pregnant. She doesn’t show under the blouse she has on, but the minute she picks him up from the airport he can immediately tell that there’s a glow about her.

He cries when they hug and he cries when she drives him to the flat she lives in with Brian. They have the guest room all set up for him. Well, there’s a half-constructed crib in the corner, but Harry figures he’ll be long gone by the time Gemma gives birth.

They have tea and Gemma divulges all the details of her pregnancy to him. He stays quiet and eats chocolate covered digestives. It’s so familiar and easy to talk to her that it feels like he never left. He doesn’t mention Anguilla and she doesn’t ask.

He gets distracted when Gemma shows him her _Pinterest_ board of baby clothes and colour swatches for the nursery. The rooms have entire themes like aquatic or jungle; they’re extravagant and more than Harry or Gemma would have been able to hope for when they were growing up. He thinks of Noor and what her room back home must look like – if right now she even _has_ a room. The Malik’s could be holed up in Antarctica for all Harry knows.

Harry’s restrained himself from looking up Zayn’s Twitter and Instagram. He’s stopped listening to Zayn’s music and deleted him off of his search history. It feels like a breath of fresh air when he opens his phone and sees that he has messages from Niall and Liam, his mum and Gemma, friends he made on the island and a couple uni friends asking if he’s back in town yet. Zayn’s name is so far down in his messages that Harry no longer feels the clench in his heart every time he opens his inbox.

Gemma can tell something’s up, but bless her heart she doesn’t say anything. Harry gets a job down at the local pub as a bartender. He pays Gemma and Brian in the form of buying groceries and cooking the dinners. Brian shakes Harry’s hand when he comes home from long days at the office and Gemma gives him an excited kiss on the cheek before Harry goes to work.

It’s nothing like Harry thought returning to England would be, but it feels like he’s establishing a life here outside of who he was in Anguilla.

\---

Harry’s just served up his fourth Bloody Mary of the night when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He glances around to make sure that he has no other patrons before turning around and opening the message.

It’s shocking to see Noor. She’s smiling with her right front tooth missing and her hair is in two messy ponytails atop her head. She’s wearing one of Zayn’s concert shirts and her hands are folded on what appears to be a kitchen table. It takes Harry half a second to read the ‘ _I miss my tooth almost as much as you! xxxxxxxzzxx Noor._ ’ Harry bites his lip until he tastes metal.

He deletes the message.

\---

Octobers in England have always been dreary; cold and grey with rain soaking the concrete.

It’s the kind of weather that makes Harry want to burrow in his duvet with a hot cup of tea and a Netflix marathon. It’s the kind of weather that makes him want to cuddle with another and share small kisses while the rain pelts at the window too loudly.

Niall thinks it’s great as he wolfs down his fish and chips. “Fucking missed real fish and chips.”

“You’re not British,” Harry tells him, but he hasn’t stopped grinning from cheek to cheek since Niall touched down and he picked him up from the airport.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate real fucking food.”

Harry kicks him under the booth. There are children around. None of them force Niall to put a pound in the swear jar though.

“I asked Marti if I could end my contract early.”

“You did what?” Harry asks. Tartar sauce is stuck to his lip. He licks it off.

“I asked Marti if I could end my contract early. I’ve been there ages Haz –longer than you and I didn’t like it anymore.”

“You didn’t – Niall last time we talked you were saying how much you loved it there.”

Niall shrugs. “And I did. But I talked to Ed and we maybe chatted about the possibility of me opening for him on tour.”

“You – Niall!”

Niall’s pink all the way down to his chest and he’s blushing like a year six who fancies a year nine. “He says I’ll have to tune up my guitar skills and write some proper songs, but – fuck Haz.” Niall runs his greasy hand through the front of his hair. The brown has nearly climbed halfway up from the roots. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“That’s incredible. I’m so happy for you.”

“Ed’s just hooking all of us up, hey?”

Harry’s face drops in an instant.

“No, I meant – fuck. I meant because like, a job,” Niall splutters. “I meant like, he got us jobs.”

“I know what you meant Ni. It’s fine I don’t care.”

“Are you sure, cause-”

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry points at the plate of half eaten chips on Niall’s plate. “We’re meeting Liam and Soph in an hour. Hurry up.”

\---

It’s not ideal to take Brian’s car into Oxford, but Harry does it anyway. The traffic is horrible and Harry suspects that it would have been faster to take the tube.

Niall’s swearing up a storm over the construction and traffic, truly showing how colourful his Irish vocabulary is.

“Turn on some fucking music,” he grumbles, fiddling with the dials.

Harry sighs and watches his windshield wipers swing back and forth.

They bop to Miley and an old Katy song. Harry hasn’t heard her on the radio for ages he reckons. There’s some old Taylor Swift that Niall dramatically sings along to and when they play Ed’s latest single Niall records a SnapChat of Harry and him mouthing the words.

“Alright London!” The radio announcer shouts. He sounds fun and new aged. “That was Ed Sheeran’s latest single. Quite the romantic isn’t he? And now we’ve got a brand new announcement with our supriiiiiiise guest!”

The car crawls forward minutely.

“Now, our special guest has some very important news for our BBC Radio 1 listeners that just could not wait. He’s all the way over in America right now, but you’re getting the exclusive right here, right now.”

“They always fucking drag it out,” Niall complains.

“It’s probably James Blunt trying to be fucking relevant again.”

“We’ve got none other than Zayn Malik on the line! Helloooo Zayn!”

From his peripheral, Harry can see the panicked look Niall sends his way. “Harry-”

“Shh, I want to hear this.”

“Yeah, ‘lo Vic, you there?” Harry hates himself for turning the volume up. It’s just that Zayn’s voice sounds different. If he’s truly in America than it’s got to be no later than seven am.

“Hi Zayn, m’here. You good?”

“M’alright yeah, thanks.”

Harry doesn’t even listen to the small talk. He doesn’t pay attention to the way his knuckles whiten over the steering wheel or to the fact that Niall seems to be texting rapidly on his phone. He thinks about if Noor’s sitting in Zayn’s lap or if she’s asleep in the room over. He thinks about how long her hair’s gotten in the month and a half since he’s seen her. He wonders how much her tooth has grown in and if she has a lisp.

“Harry, pay attention.”

“-bout a mistake y’know? Like, when you really care about someone, but it’s not the right time. Or it is the right time, but it’s too short. I don’t know.”

“Harry-”

“ _Shh_!”

Harry turns up the volume and closes his eyes. “But I spent a lot of time with my daughter this summer and it was great. She’s getting big now, like, I can barely handle her.”

“So how’s it going to work on tour this year then?” Harry hates that he wants to go to a show. He hates that he wants to spend time colouring and reading with Noor backstage and then watch Zayn perform from the wings.

“Well like, I think this is going to be my last one for a while. My album’s coming out at the end of November and it’s quite different than I’m used to. It’s a lot more personal and I’m hoping the fans appreciate that.”

“The fans love everything you do. I’m sure they’ll be sad this is your last album.”

“Not forever.”

If Harry thinks hard enough he can picture the frown etched on Zayn’s face and the way he had looked when they had late chats about how everyone wants a piece of Zayn. He thinks about how Zayn had pressed his lips to the center of Harry’s chest and kissed his skin as if he was saying ‘but you’re the exception.’ “I’ll do some of America then come back to the UK and tour a bit of Europe. I just want my daughter to have a steady family in England.”

“A family,” the announcer repeats gleefully. “Does that mean you’ve got a special someone waiting for you in England?”

Niall takes one of Harry’s hands off the steering wheel and clutches it in his palm.

“Like I said, the new album is quite personal, so just listen to that for the answers.”

“So you’ve got someone?” The announcer pushes.

“The lyrics say it all.”

“Speaking of, we’ve got an exclusive listen to your first single. Care to explain what it’s about?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory. Like I said earlier it’s about having that one great love and it just not working out.”

“Alright well, without further ado, here’s Zayn Malik’s first single off his new album, _I Won’t Mind_.”

The song starts and Harry doesn’t know what to do. He can barely breathe and Niall isn’t saying anything. He doesn’t know whether it’s just his imagination, but he thinks Niall is holding his breath as well. Zayn sounds so beautiful, that Harry’s almost distracted from the lyrics –‘ _cause we are who we are when no one’s watching_ \- and then it hits him.

“It’s me – it’s – _Niall_.”

“I know,” Niall says and he wipes his thumb under one of Harry’s eyes. “Harry you’re driving, breathe.”

Harry wants to snap that he’s not driving because they’re not even _moving_. He bites it back to listen to Zayn croon – _I won’t mind even though I know you’ll never be mine, I won’t mind even though I know you’ll never be mine_.

A horn blares behind Harry. It startles him out of his stupor and he lifts his foot off the brake.

He’s got to move forward.

\---

It’s a long week of drinking and reminiscing. They meet Sophia and she’s a riot and a half. They meet Liam’s parents and his friends and then drive up to Holmes Chapel to have dinner with Harry’s family. They stay in Harry’s bungalow and Sophia offers to stay in the main house so they can have lad time.

It doesn’t work.

Harry absolutely adores her. They drink wine and make fun of Liam. When there’s a cow mooing somewhere in the field, Sophia jumps out of her skin in alarm. She’s funny and charismatic and absolutely stunning. She teases Liam and even pokes fun at Niall, though she always braids Harry’s hair and cuddles up beside him when they watch a movie. Liam pretends to be put off by it, but he’s red cheeked and happy whenever he spies one of the boys chatting with Sophia alone.

The absolute worst part about staying in the bungalow together is that the walls are so thin Harry can hear them going at it at night. The floors creek a bit too noisily and the headboard thuds into the wall. Harry stuffs his pillow over his head and the next morning he tries to pretend that he didn’t hear it.

It’s Niall who hoots wildly and high fives Sophia when they come down the stairs for breakfast.

“This is horrifying,” Sophia cries, burying her head in her hands.

“This is nothing. I had to listen to Harry having sex for _ages_.”

“I didn’t bring them back to the house!” Harry defends. He holds a sausage like a sword and pokes Liam in the cheek.

“Well you didn’t exactly wank off quietly either.”

Harry gasps. “I’m offended you think that!”

“So loud,” Liam teases, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Finally got some peace and quiet when you spent all that time with Zayn.”

The silence is sickening.

Harry hates how weak and winded he feels just by the mere mention of his name.

“Oh Harry-”

“Don’t apologize Li. I know you didn’t mean to bring him up.”

“I just forgot.” Liam looks like a damned kick puppy.

“I don’t care,” Harry shrugs. There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him he’s a dirty liar; telling him that by downloading Zayn’s new single and reading the lyrics over and over and over when he’s in bed alone means that he cares.

“I just-”

“Liam.” It’s Sophia who says it this time with a gentle hand on his arm and soft eyes.

Liam shuts up after that so yes, Harry does adore her quite a lot.

\---

Harry gains the strength to look at the scrapbook once Niall’s left.

The cover has a lot more detail than Harry had thought at first glance and when he opens it up there’s a letter – not a picture – that Harry sees. It’s not long at all and it’s written in Noor’s careful handwriting:

_Dear Harry,_

_You are my best friend. I love spending time with you. You make me very happy and I will miss you a lot. You have to spend lots of time with baba and me because we love you lots. I hope you like this because I was very good and earned a lot of stickers._

_Love Noor._

The words are spelt correctly. The grammar is in top form and the words look like they took ages to write. Harry knows that it’s not just Noor who took time to do this.

He flips through pages and pages of pictures. There are some that he doesn’t even know were taken. Like one of Harry with his bare back to the camera and Noor sitting beside him looking into a bowl. It was one morning when Harry made strawberry waffles and scrambled eggs that Noor bragged loudly about helping with. There are pictures of them from the beach and most of the pictures that Noor demanded be taken of her.

Harry tears up when he sees the delicate swirls drawn with glitter pen and the little stickers of beach shells and ocean waves. He doesn’t hold back from crying when he sees that Noor has included some pictures of just her and Zayn and that some are of Zayn and Harry’s backs while watching the television when Noor was supposed to be napping.

So much care and thought went into the scrapbook that when Harry thinks about how he left her in the middle of the night with no goodbye, he feels like the worst person in the universe. He wants to message Zayn and apologize. Better yet, he wants to call Zayn and sob about how sorry he is.

He supposes this guilt is worse enough.

Harry dreads to see what’s on the last page of the book. He reckons it can’t be anything that will lift his spirits. He’s proved correct when he turns to the very last page of the book and sees that side by side is a picture that was taken and a picture that Noor drew.

The picture taken is of Harry, Noor, and Zayn with their cheeks pressed close together and smiling widely at the camera. Beside it is Noor’s best interpretation of what they’re supposed to look like. It’s slightly off though because Noor’s given herself purple hair and Harry has green curls that look like seaweed. Underneath her drawing is the word _usra_ with a dash and then _family_.

\---

Niall moves in with Harry at the beginning of December with a deep tan and love bites covering his neck. Harry cuffs him on the side of the head when he steps off the plane in a pair of shorts and a polo shirt.

They get a cat together and Niall claims the second bedroom that has been waiting for him since Harry moved in three weeks ago. They’re close to Gemma and Brian and even closer to Harry’s work. They have biweekly dinners with Liam and Sophia and find themselves going to the pub more and more often. He’s started taking yoga more intensely than he had before and he’s finding his rhythm in London.

\---

Harry has heard all about Zayn Malik.

When he celebrates Christmas with his family, his teenage cousin talks his head off about Zayn. She sings Zayn’s songs under her breath and curls up at the end of the sofa to scroll through Twitter and tweet about him. She was so excited to get tickets to Zayn’s last concert that she talks about him to all of their cousins. She sounds appalled that Harry hasn’t bought the album and when she offers to share her earbud with him, he escapes to the kitchen to help with the gravy.

Though he was never a fan, Harry finds himself hearing Zayn’s music on the radio and jamming to it with the people at his work. He sees hashtags on Twitter after every concert he plays and has to restrain himself from seeing what the reviews are. Zayn’s newest music video is a smash hit that plays when Harry tries to watch Catfish with Niall and although they’re quick to change the channel, Harry still sees Zayn in the video and he looks fucking amazing. Zayn is inescapable, more so now that Harry’s consciously trying to escape him. It’s pathetic how Harry has every desire to associate himself with the R&B star.

Zayn’s birthday passes with massive recognition though all Zayn does to acknowledge it is post a picture of Noor and him with a birthday cake. Harry’s own birthday passes and Harry sees through Twitter that Zayn’s playing a show in Manchester. He ignores it.

Twenty-four feels like it’s going to be a big year for Harry. Liam and Niall take him out to a club where Ed’s waiting for him with an expensive bottle of champagne in the VIP section. He tears up a little bit – already tipsy from Jell-o Shots and vodka cranberries. Niall showers him with sparkling wine that he can’t afford and he dances with nearly everyone in the club. Ed feeds him shots all night and they take a million and a half drunk selfies. With Niall’s encouragement, he brings a cute brunet with a muscular build home and they make out and trade handjobs until Harry’s subtly kicks him out.

The girls in his yoga class gossip about who Zayn is sleeping with, but Harry tunes them out and focuses on his Ujjayi pranayama. Harry doesn’t go out to the clubs as much as he had when he first turned twenty-four. He tries to save every pence he can to go travelling this summer so that Niall and him can rent out their flat when Niall’s on tour with Ed. Harry tells his mum about everything that happened between him and Zayn and it’s relatively easy. She tears up as she reads when Noor has wrote him and she runs her fingers over their smiling faces. She doesn’t say anything as she flips through the carefully constructed pages, though she does keep making these contemplative humming sounds under her breath. Robin doesn’t know who Zayn Malik is, but he pats Harry on the back and kisses his forehead as if the breakup has been fresh.

Harry accompanies Gemma to her prenatal appointments and does mummy and baby yoga classes with her. He doesn’t pay attention to the gossip magazines in Tesco and it’s easy to ignore the pictures of Zayn and leggy blondes when he knows that Zayn prefers brunets.

He has no interest to hear about petty rumours as he buys baby outfits for Gemma’s baby. He doesn’t look at the clothes that would look adorable on Noor. He turns his cheek when he sees sparkly skirts and bright dresses with flowers and lace trim. He flirts with boys that make his coffee and winks at the men who stop by the bar.

\---

“Going all out Horan,” Harry observes.

The black limo looks out of place on the road. He hadn’t thought it was for them when he stepped out in his jeans and sheer shirt, but the driver had nodded once at Niall and opened the door for them.

“S’last night, right?” Niall looks well chuffed as he skips down the stairs.

Liam swings an arm around Harry’s shoulders and they run to catch up so he can swing the other around Niall’s. Liam drags them in to press a kiss to each of their foreheads. “You don’t leave for another week.”

“Technicalities,” Niall laughs. He lets Sophia slide in first before going in beside her.

The limo is filled with champagne and pineapple chunks. It’s an odd combination that Harry gratefully consumes. They drive for what seems like ages while they play some EDM for the ride. Most of it is spent in idle until the engine shuts off and Harry’s looking out the window to try and see where they are.

Upon opening the door, it becomes immediately apparent that they’re not at a club or posh restaurant.

“Does Ed have a show?” Harry asks, looking at the screaming girls on the other side of the gate. There are only a couple of them with paint on their faces and posters in their hands. He squints at one while Liam helps Sophia out of the car and he –

“No.”

“Harry,” Liam warns. He slams the door shut so Harry can’t slip back inside.

“Liam-”

“No,” Niall says shaking his head.

“Have you all been in on this?” Harry turns to Sophia and at least she has the decency to look conflicted. “Unbelievable.”

“It’s just a concert,” Niall shrugs. He looks guilty though. His cheeks are already red and Harry can feel his own heart hammering in his chest. He’s spent eight months – eight _long_ months trying to get over the three months that meant the world to him.

He scans the group of girls outside and checks the time on his watch. Seven seems like a brilliant time to start a concert. He can probably make it home by seven thirty if he finds a taxicab.

“It’s his last concert,” Liam says quietly. He wraps his fingers around Harry’s wrist and slides their palms together.

They’re right by an industrial garage door. There’s probably less than 100 meters separating him from Zayn. The thought makes his heart hammer in his chest. It’s painful how badly he wants to see Zayn, but if it’s not mutual it would break him. All the feelings he suppressed, all the nights he spent willing away the memory of Zayn – Harry can’t see him if it’s not mutual.

“Does he know I’m here?”

“He set this all up. He said-” Niall closes his mouth when Liam glares at him. “It’s his last show for a while. He’s back for good.”

“Good for him.” Harry wishes he was a smoker. He wishes he could roll out his yoga mat and lay with his feet flat on the ground with his palms down to ground him to _something_. He wants to fast forward past whatever blow-up Zayn’s going to give him.“Let’s go then.”

Niall cheers and Liam smacks a kiss to his cheek. “M’proud of you,” he tells him. Harry nods, determined.

\---

After being given lanyards with Zayn’s smouldering face on them and pink wristbands to indicate that they have full access to wherever they want, they get escorted towards a waiting room. But it all goes terribly, horribly wrong when Harry hears Noor’s squealing laughter from down the hall.

“Oh God,” Harry breathes, stopping in his tracks. A beefy security guard who is certainly not Carlos runs into his back and nudges him forward.

“She’s missed you mate,” Liam supplies.

Harry swallows thickly. He’s thought about what it would be like to see Noor more so than he has about Zayn. He can imagine how much hatred she would hold towards him for not being in the suite when Noor woke up and he can only imagine the things Zayn must have said to her.

The corridor is rounded so Harry can’t see what’s around the corner, but with every step he takes he’s painfully aware that Noor could pop out at any second.

And she does.

She’s running towards him and looking behind her giggling widely. Harry watches her for half a second; her black dress has sleeves and a white band around her waist with a big bow in the middle of it. She’s got pink converse on her feet and her hair is in a long braid down her back. She turns to face him and halts.

Its two breathless seconds before Noor shrieks, “ _Harry_!” and runs at him full speed. Harry bends to pick her up and twirls her in his arms. She’s weightless as he brings her down to his hip and she wraps her arms around his neck.

“This is the best birthday ever! It’s my birthday Harry I blew out all my candles and _everything_! Baba told me to make the biggest wish ever and you came!” She sounds so full of wonder and hope that Harry shushes her by kissing her forehead and both her cheeks over and over until she’s wiggling around. He’s aware of everyone watching them, but he doesn’t care as he blows a raspberry into her cheek. “I _knew_ you’d come!”

“I don’t have a present,” Harry says lamely. He doesn’t dare put her down.

“I don’t care, you’re _here_!” Noor squeezes Harry’s neck and kisses his cheek loudly. She’s undoubtedly older than the last time he had seen her. Her tooth has grown back, but she’s missing one farther back in her upper teeth. “We have to go find baba before he goes on stage!”

She squirms until Harry sets her on her feet. She holds her hand out and squeezes the daylights out of his fingers.

Sophia sniffles from behind him and he can hear Liam whispering as well. He tunes it out to follow Noor, staring at her so he can ignore his surroundings. Seeing Zayn is getting nearer and nearer and his heartrate is double what it was before. Noor pushes a door open and –

“Where’s baba?” She demands. Noor puts both hands on her hips and glares at Caroline. Harry’s missed her snark and sass. He scratches her scalp and feels her warmth and soaks in the feeling of being in her orbit.

“He’s about to go on stage pumpkin.” To Harry, she adds, “Hiya love, good to see you again.” She hugs him tightly with more warmth than Harry deserves seeing as he’s positive she knows the ins and outs of what happened between him and Zayn.

“Let’s _go_ ,” Noor demands. With one hand in Harry's, she grabs Niall’s as well and yanks them back into the main corridor.

It’s entertaining to watch her pretend that she knows where she’s going when there’s two security personal ensuring that she’s following them. They reach the main backstage and Harry can see under the stage where Zayn is. A woman with a red dress and a similar lanyard to Harry’s puts thick noise cancelling headphones over Noor’s ears.

Noor’s yelling his name though it’s drowned out by the intro music playing for the audience. Harry hoists her into his arms and takes Zayn in. He’s mostly hidden by the dark lighting under the stage and he’s shaking his hands out like a boxer before a match. He’s got a white snapback on backwards and a mic tucked into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Baba pops up like this.” Noor shows Harry with her hands how Zayn comes up from under the stage.

Harry nods and glances back to Zayn. Even through the darkness Harry can see the instant Zayn’s eyes clearly meet his. Noor waves excitedly, though all Harry can muster is half a nervous grin.

The moment is stolen from him when someone steals Zayn’s attention. It’s a flurry of people fussing with Zayn and music building and building until someone pushes a button and the platform Zayn’s on takes off. Harry can’t see anything of what’s happening above the stage, but he hears the ear splitting screams of Zayn’s fans and half a second later, Zayn’s singing a song Harry doesn’t recognize.

They’re shuttled up a level and Harry’s buzzing all over with Niall whooping and Liam singing along while staring lovingly at Sophia. There’s something dirty about the bass and the way Zayn’s singing about shutting the world out.

They have the perfect side view to Zayn swaying on stage and circling his hips along to the song. He looks in his element and there’s nothing choppy or silly about his movements. His face is blown up on the big screen and there are a million different angles to him. The song fades and Zayn bows on stage. He’s smiling so wide his eyes squint and he’s so genuine and happy that Harry can feel his own giddiness bubble up.

“London!” Zayn shouts into the mic. “Your support has truly been overwhelming. As you know, this is my last show on this tour,” he laughs brightly before shushing the crowd. “It’s also my daughter’s sixth birthday!” The crowd coos. “London, I know this is going to be the fucking _best_ show of the tour and it’s only just begun.”

Zayn walks closer to the center of the stage so he’s right in line with Harry. “Now before I sing anymore, there’s one special person here in particular that I would like to thank for showing up; someone who inspired most of my album and has been my greatest muse. I’ve struggled a bit with coming up with new material for this album. You have all supported me so much over the years that I didn’t want to disappoint.” Zayn takes a moment to wave to the crowd and blow them a kiss.

“So this song I’m about to sing is about finding love in an unexpected place and having it challenge and change you for the better. Sometimes timing is off and distance is a factor, but when it comes down to it,” Zayn walks around the stage until he’s in the center of it, directly in front of Harry, “you don’t run away from love, you run towards it. There’s a long road ahead, but I’d like to think the rest of my album is about optimism and a look towards a future.”

Zayn raises his mic to the audience and glances towards Harry. He lowers his mic and keeps his eyes on Harry, “Babes,” he starts and Harry covers his mouth with shining eyes, “we’ve a long way to go and a lot to talk about, but as long as you’re by my side, _I Won’t Mind_.”

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to my lovely beta, I can't wait until I can properly thank you! The late nights, WhatsApp messages, and constant cheerleading and hand-holding during this fic saved my absolute life and I love you!!!!
> 
> Written for the prompt: Harry's summer is ruined by a babysitting gig his friend got him stuck in. Famous single-parent musician Zayn Malik tries to spend summer vacationing with his daughter while working on a single due by the end of summer. His only hope lies in the distraction/baby-sitter his friend got him.
> 
> check out the [tumblr page](http://zarryficexchange.tumblr.com/post/130960286661/you-know-i-got-you-for-soundofmybones-word-count)!


End file.
